


Glorious

by ZairaA



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Dirty Talk, First Time, M/M, Object Insertion, Prostitution, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:16:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZairaA/pseuds/ZairaA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Merlin meets Arthur Pendragon he is mesmerised and can hardly believe it when he finds out that he's a highclass prostitute. Thinking it's the only way to see the intriguing prat again, Merlin becomes Arthur's client - and embarks on a journey on which he not only loses his virginity (in any way possible) but also his heart. But while Merlin thinks he has found a friend – maybe even love - Arthur doesn't allow himself such things and keeps reminding Merlin that all they have is a business arrangement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glorious

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my lovely beta, [Ceewelsh](archiveofourown.org/users/Ceewelsh) , and my wonderful cheerleader [kitty_fic](archiveofourown.org/users/kitty_fic). You guys are awesome!
> 
> All the thanks, hugs and cuddles to the [Alby_Mangroves](archiveofourown.org/users/Alby_Mangroves) for making me my own, glorious Arthur to go along with this story. Please go and tell her how incredible and talented she is [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1941978).

Merlin can't remember having ever felt so out of place in his life – and that is saying something. He's a gay fashion designer who dresses like a hobo, grew up in a village whose population was outnumbered ten to one by sheep, and is a virgin at twenty-two. He's socially awkward, has ears that remind people of cartoon elephants and a tendency to put his foot in his mouth when people make him nervous – which is most of the time. Feeling out of place is one of Merlin's main occupations. Tonight, though, increases that feeling to unequalled levels.

The room he finds himself in is filled with sparkling light and tinkling glasses. Everything is vast and huge and larger than life, managing to feel empty even though the floors are filled with the gently swaying mass of people in their finest. The tall wall of glass overlooking the darkness of the gardens is mirroring it all back, but Merlin can't even find his own reflection. He is standing high up above the main floor, on the gallery, looking down at the sea of black, interspersed with the occasional, adventurous dot of red and dark green, gold and midnight blue. The party is in full swing – but it's not the boisterous kind of event. The mood is sedated and elegant, like the music in the background, classic and unassuming, mixing with the subdued laughter and hundreds of voices to a low humming noise.

He has no idea what he is doing here.

Well, that isn't entirely true. He is here to please his new boss, Nimueh McKinsey, who isn't the kind of person who would take it well if one declined her invitation to the charity event of the season. Nimueh is a glamorous and rather scary woman. Merlin is pretty sure she's in her mid forties, but by some kind of witchcraft she manages to look more like late twenties. She's also the chief of Nimueh Designs, one of the most high-class fashion houses in London, specialising on haute couture, and having Royals and celebrities among her customers. Merlin has joined her team straight out of university but, while he loves to design elaborate and fantastic creations, Merlin himself isn't much to look at.

Merlin isn't one of these people - the newly rich and mildly famous. He has grown up in a house that would fit in Nimueh's bathroom, for heaven's sake. And while he has left Ealdor quite a few years ago to study design, and apparently is some kind of whizkid, he still is – at heart – a small town boy through and through. Which means he really has no clue at all what he is supposed to do or how he is supposed to act. This extravaganza is so far removed from his mother's house parties, with the cheap wine and the cheese crackers, it's not even funny.

That's why Merlin is standing with his back to the wall, clutching the champagne flute in a death grip and hoping he can just fade away into the background, unnoticed and forgotten.

He has calculated down to the second how long he'll have to stay before he can leave without anybody taking notice, but there are still a few more people in the room Nimueh has yet to introduce him to. Famous names Merlin might have heard but mostly can't place. Right now, she seems to have other priorities though, and that leaves nothing to do for him but watch the guests, and hope nobody realises he is making up ridiculous stories about them inside his head.

Merlin lets his gaze roam over the assembly, looking for his next unassuming victim, when he sees him – and freezes. His breath is catching in his lungs and heat, like he never felt it before, is pooling in his belly.

The man looks – Merlin can't find another word for it – regal. Tall and broad-shouldered, with the tailored suit fitting him like armour and his hair shimmering like a golden crown under the chandeliers. He oozes confidence, moving through the crowd like a ship through the sea, all lean grace and no hesitation.

The man looks like a king. A true king of legends, whose likes the world has not seen in a very long time. Who would have ruled his kingdom wise and fair, bringing peace and justice and prosperity to his people. Merlin follows the man with his eyes, sees that, while he doesn't engage in conversation, he draws attention where ever he passes. People turn to him like to the sun on a winter's day. He is simple perfection. He is glorious.

And then the man lifts his head and his eyes find Merlin's, almost as if he felt Merlin staring at him. Although, Merlin thinks defensively, it's hardly like he's the only one. The man's gaze is sharp and intense, and Merlin feels his cock hardening in his trousers. He turns away with a blush, glad that no one else is witnessing his mortification, and when he looks up again the man is gone. It's almost as if the room has grown dimmer for it.

Merlin still feels hot though and, with a sigh, pushes himself off the wall to make his way downstairs. He quickly grabs another glass of champagne from a waiter and tries to remember where he has spotted the door leading to the gardens before. He just has to get out of there for a fucking minute or he will start to embarrass himself. _Kings of legends... dear god, Merlin._

The night air that greets him when he steps out is blessedly cool and fresh, a late summer night that has the tang of approaching autumn already. Merlin breathes out in relief and rolls his shoulders, only now realising how tense his body has become. He walks over to the low wall surrounding the terrace and sinks down on it, leaning back on his hands and closing his eyes for a moment, enjoying the silence.

But the reprieve is short-lived.

''Are you following me?'' a voice comes out of the darkness to his right. It's mostly amused but there is a hint of annoyance swinging in it.

Merlin jumps, spilling half of his champagne as he whips around. He can just barely make out a shadow to his right, and his heartbeat picks up when the man steps out of the dark like a predator.

It's him. The man from before. And he's even more beautiful here, in the soft golden light filtering through the high, narrow windows, painting his face in shadows and playing with his cheekbones and jawline.

The man cocks his head, looking at Merlin expectantly before he shakes his head, mumbling, ''Trust me to be cursed with an idiot for company.''

''Hey!'' Merlin feels himself blush to the roots of his hair when he realises he has been silently staring at the man for nearly a minute. ''I'm sitting right here, and I'm not deaf!''

The man's gorgeous mouth curls into a grin. ''I'm glad to hear that. Would be a waste with those ears of yours.''

Merlin gapes. ''Oh my god! You're a complete prat! Figures,'' he adds, grumbling more to himself, ''the gorgeous ones always are.''

Instead of looking offended though, the man throws his head back and laughs, loud and unrestrained, displaying a throat Merlin can't help but want to explore with his lips. When the blond looks back at Merlin, his eyes are twinkling with amusement.

''Did you just call me gorgeous?''

Merlin rolls his eyes. ''I also called you a prat, but of course you would concentrate on the other one.''

The man just keeps looking at him as if Merlin is the most fascinating thing he has seen in a while. Then he offers his hand.

''Since we already have moved on to name-calling... I'm Arthur Pendragon.''

His smile is surprisingly disarming, and Merlin quickly ducks his head to hide the blush creeping up on his cheeks, cursing his pale complexion that always - always - gives him away. He does get up to shake the man's hand though; his mother has instilled manners in him after all.

''Merlin Emrys,'' he mumbles. ''I've... I've only started working for Miss McKinsey.''

He has no idea why he says that, it's not like Pendragon has asked, but maybe he feels the need to explain, to give an excuse for his social awkwardness.

''Ah,'' Arthur nods. ''So I guess you're one of her creative minions.''

Merlin gasps, pulling his hand out of the other man's grasp – and why was he still holding it anyway?

''I'm not a minion, thank you very much!'' he hisses. Really, who does this guy think he is?

But Arthur just cocks his head to the side, studying him. ''She'll have her work cut out with you for sure. You're a feisty one.''

''F-Feisty!? Who are you calling _feisty_? I'm not a girl, you clotpole!''

There is another surprised laugh, and the blond man shakes his head with a chuckle. '' _Clotpole_? What does that even mean?''

Merlin huffs. ''It means obnoxious, beautiful arsehat who acts like he is so much better than anyone around him!''

He only realises what he has said when Arthur steps closer with a predatory look on his face. ''That's the second time you called me beautiful, Mr. Emrys,'' he says.

''No. I haven't. I- I called you g-gorgeous the last time,'' Merlin stammers, taking a step back and then another when Arthur just follows him, until the backs of his knees hit the balustrade. ''And you know what they say, on how the package isn't always a good indication on the content.''

Arthur's mouth curls into a smug smile and he lets his eyes drop to Merlin's lips. ''Would you like to find out about that?'' he whispers, and Merlin thinks he might faint any second now.

Merlin has known about his sexuality for quite a while, but he has never done anything about it. He knows he's not attractive. His face is weird and his ears are huge and he is gangly and skinny and awkward on top of that. He just never found the courage to approach any of the boys he liked or had a crush on, especially as they had a tendency to fall into the 'way out your league and probably straight' category. So, it's pretty obvious that Arthur Pendragon is mocking him.

''No, thank you,'' he snaps. ''I'm not one to be blinded by a pretty wrapping. I'm not that shallow!''

And okay, maybe he should not have pointed at the house where his boss' party is still under way and which is filled with what are probably close acquaintances of the obnoxious man before him. But Arthur just smiles and shakes his head.

''You're not, huh?'' he asks, and now his smile is actually fond, which is completely weird. ''So what would I have to do to impress you Merlin? Ask your opinion on the Syrian conflict? Wax enthusiastically about the new Cartier-Bresson exhibition? Or maybe give a lecture on the stereotypical perception of beauty and intellect in human society?''

Merlin is so taken aback he's speechless for a moment.

''Or,'' Arthur continues with a teasing look, ''I could recite you some poetry, maybe? How about... he walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright meet in his aspect and his eyes...''

Arthur puts a hand to his chest and an exaggeratedly soulful look on his face when he speaks Byron's morphed lines, and it's so completely ridiculous that Merlin can't help but laugh. Arthur grins at him happily, as if Merlin just had given him a wonderful present. He looks strangely different now, relaxed and cheerful.

Just as he's about to sit down on the low wall next to Merlin though, the door in their back opens. They both whip around almost guiltily.

''There you are,'' Nimueh drawls, sauntering over to Arthur, her crimson dress swishing around her legs with the exaggerated sway of her hips. ''I've missed you.''

She drapes herself over Arthur's shoulder and gives him a sultry look that makes Merlin uncomfortable, standing there next to them when they only seem to have eyes for each other.

''I'm sorry,'' Arthur says, with an apologetic smile. ''I thought you were preoccupied with more important things.''

Nimueh grins at him. ''Don't pout, baby. We will have more time for each other after the party. But now I want to show you off a little more.''

She links her arm with Arthur's and paints herself along his side, turning around to go back to the party. It's almost like an after thought when she calls over her shoulder.

''And come along, Merlin, there are a few more people I want to introduce you to.''

For a moment Merlin stands there completely stunned. He's burning with mortification. How could he have thought Arthur was actually flirting with him? Of course Arthur, who looks like a god worthy to be painted by Michelangelo, has no interest in awkward, weird-looking Merlin. What's more, he is straight and the boyfriend of Merlin's boss. He must have realised Merlin's attraction and apparently has been mocking him this whole time.

Merlin feels like the floor is slipping away from him. This is why he never makes a move on anyone. Because all it will get you is ridicule and a bruised heart. He excuses himself from Nimueh, claiming a horrible migraine probably impaired by too much champagne, and is lucky enough that Nimueh just smiles at him indulgently and a little drunk, patting his cheek and telling him to meet her at her office tomorrow.

Merlin flees then, but not before he catches a last glimpse of Arthur, who is looking back at him with an unhappy frown.

~*~

It takes him some time to fall asleep that night. Blue eyes, twinkling with amusement, keep staring at him whenever he closes his eyes, and there's the rush of burning hot shame again. He just hopes Arthur doesn't tell Nimueh about Merlin's obvious and embarrassing crush.

He dreads going into the office, but there is no way around it. At least he didn't have more than one and a half glasses of champagne yesterday and went to bed a lot earlier than he had expected, so he is probably better rested than some of the other late-night party-goers.

He definitely looks better rested than Nimueh herself, who is sitting behind her desk with her hair pulled back in a stern knot and a pair of dark glasses hiding her eyes. Merlin tries not to think about the fun she probably had all through the night with Arthur.

Nimueh looks up from the cup of coffee she is nursing with a frown when Merlin knocks and slips inside her office.

''Yes, Merlin? What do you want?'' she asks impatiently, her voice a little rough around the edges.

''Uh... I- you said you wanted to see me first thing this morning?''

''I did?'' Nimueh's frown deepens. ''Ah well, I guess I did. I wanted to talk to you about the wedding dress. You need to get it done so that it will be ready for the ceremony in December.''

Merlin blinks in surprise, and there is a strange, awful weight settling in his stomach. ''Oh,'' he says. ''I didn't realise you were planning to get married. Congratulations.''

Nimueh's brows rise up behind the dark frames of her glasses and she pulls them off, looking at Merlin with her strange blue eyes.

''Don't be ridiculous, Merlin,'' she says with a scoff. ''I will hardly tie myself to a man which I then have to please while he runs around fucking the help. The Royal wedding, Merlin. God, keep up will you? I swear you creative types live somewhere in Fairy Wonderland. Countess Vivian decided that she wants to walk down the aisle in a Nimueh creation. And who can fault her? So it's got to be brilliant and absolutely breathtaking, okay?''

''Oh!'' Merlin's eyes widen. ''I'm sorry, I thought maybe you and your boyfriend...''

''My boyfriend?'' Nimueh looks at him confused. Then she laughs, loud and mocking. ''Oh my god, you're talking about Arthur? Oh, this is precious! Merlin, Merlin, Merlin...'' She leans forward and looks at him with a smirk on her blood red lips. ''Arthur is not my boyfriend, Merlin. I don't have a boyfriend. Arthur is a whore. A pretty one, I'll give you that, but nevertheless a whore.''

It takes a moment – a very long moment – for Merlin to understand what Nimueh is saying.

Even when he thinks he might understand what she is telling him, all that comes out of his mouth is, ''You- what?''

Nimueh leans back in her chair with a secret smile. ''I don't do boyfriends, Merlin. But that doesn't mean I don't like some eye-candy on my arm at an important event like yesterday. So I get a professional. And there are...'' Her smile becomes lascivious. ''other benefits as well. I'm sure I don't have to explain them to you.''

Merlin shakes his head. He still can't really get his head around it. That the beautiful, regal looking man - that _Arthur_ who mocked him and teased him and quoted poetry at him, and whose smile is still burned into Merlin's mind – that this man is actually selling himself for money.

''Oh, don't look so shocked, Merlin!'' Nimueh laughs. She watches him with knowing eyes. ''I saw how you were watching him, you know. Not that I blame you. That is a fine piece of arse.''

Merlin ducks his head in embarrassment and feels his cheeks heating up. He must be beetroot red by now. There's the sound of a drawer being pulled open and the rustling of paper, and then Nimueh's hand pushes a card into his line of sight, her red painted nails briefly dancing over the thick white paper square.

Merlin looks up at her questioningly. Nimueh smiles. ''Try him,'' she says. ''He's not cheap, but I pay you enough. I swear he has the most talented tongue. Wherever he deigns to use it.''

The way Nimueh – who is after all his boss – waggles her eyebrows at him is most disconcerting, and Merlin stares at the business card dumbly. Arthur Pendragon, it says in bold black letters. Below that there's a number but nothing else. As if his name was advertising enough.

~*~

Merlin will never know why he pockets the card, but he does. It might be that he is still thinking about Arthur's eyes, and this piece of paper is the only connection he has to the man. He does not dial the number, but he keeps pulling out the card, fingering it and stroking it, wondering about Arthur.

So he is a prostitute. A rentboy or an escort, whatever the term is exactly. Merlin definitely shies away form the 'whore' Nimueh has used with an almost gleeful expression. He wonders why someone like Arthur, who is obviously intelligent, might pick up that kind of profession. Although he probably makes a lot of money with the way he looks. It really shouldn't bother Merlin. Arthur can do what ever he wants, and it's not as if he would look at Merlin twice if he wasn't compensated for it in some way.

But – and that is the nagging thought that keeps coming back to Merlin – he would look at him if Merlin called him and hired him for his services. If Merlin only had the courage to dial the number on the card, he could see Arthur again.

It takes him two weeks to find that courage. Two weeks of endless obsession with what he can recall of Arthur - his broad shoulders, his blue eyes, his smile. Merlin takes himself in hand every night, stroking his cock and touching himself, trying to imagine that it's Arthur's hands he is feeling.

When he finally gives in he is a wreck of nerves. He disconnects the call three times before anyone can pick up on the other end, and he probably would have done so the fourth time as well, but the call is answered so quickly, Merlin almost drops the phone in surprise.

''Listen, you wanker,'' he hears a familiar voice coming through the speaker. ''Make up your mind, will you? I'm in the middle of something here.''

Merlin's eyes widen and for a moment his mouth just keeps opening and closing uselessly.

''Hello?''

''Oh... oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I mean of course I wouldn't know, but I didn't realise you'd be... uh... you know,'' Merlin feels himself blushing like a tomato while he babbles more nonsense at Arthur. It's like he can step outside of his body and look at the train wreck of himself but he can't make it stop. ''I mean, I'd thought you would turn off your mobile when you... you know... are doing stuff... with people,...''

''Merlin?''

Now Merlin does drop the phone.

''Merlin Emrys, is that you?''

Merlin can't really decipher the tone in Arthur's voice. He is definitely amused, surprised as well, but there's something else there, something Merlin can't pin down.

''You... you remember me?'' he asks, completely stunned.

There's a pause and then a small laugh. ''Well, your ears are kind of memorable.''

Merlin cringes.

''And then I think I've never been insulted quite so much in one evening.''

''Oh, haha...''

Merlin wishes the ground would open up right now and swallow him whole, but there is no such mercy. Why the heck did he think it would be a good idea to make this call?

''It was quite the interesting experience.'' At least Arthur doesn't sound mad. If anything he sounds amused. Then he asks, ''So how did you get this number?''

''Oh, uh...'' Merlin probably shouldn't call rentboys if he can't take the embarrassment. ''Nimueh, my boss, she gave it to me.''

''She did?'' Arthur sounds surprised.

''She said I should call you and, uh... you know, try out your service.''

''Oh.''

That's all he says, and for a long awkward moment there is nothing but silence. Okay, Merlin would really like to die now, please.

''You... you don't have to, obviously. I mean I understand if you wouldn't want to, not with someone like me, and... oh my god, you don't even take male clients, do you? God, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have assumed.''

''No,'' Arthur says, and it sounds like a sigh. ''No, I do both. And, sure, we can make an appointment if you like. Anything special you have coming up, or would that be a private affair?''

''Oh, no, uh... just... just the two of us. I'm not much of a party person. Although we could, if you want to I mean-''

Arthur chuckles. ''It's not about what I want, Merlin.'' And then his voice turns dark and seductive, like melted chocolate. ''If you want to have me all to yourself, that's perfectly fine.''

Merlin should probably feel embarrassed that he turns hard within a second, but he has used up all his mortification for the day.

''Oh, okay. Yes... that's- I think that would be better.''

Arthur laughs, a quiet little sound, that makes Merlin feel warm inside.

''When... when would you be free?'' he asks uncertainly. Is he supposed to ask for the price now? It feels rude and somehow wrong.

''Let me look at my schedule,'' Arthur says and a little of the warmth in Merlin's chest dissipates. There is a moment of silence, then, ''Would Thursday be good for you? Or I could do Saturday next week if that's better.''

''Thursday is fine,'' Merlin says, because now that he has called, now that he's talking to Arthur again, he doesn't want to wait any longer than necessary.

''Eight o'clock?'' Arthur asks. ''I'm not sure for how long you would need me.''

Merlin doesn't know either. He realises that he has not really thought about this, what they would do, apart from that he would get to see Arthur again. ''I'm not sure... a few hours?''

''Okay, I'll book you for that night then. Then we can see how it goes.''

Arthur is so matter of fact about it, so very business like, as if Merlin is making an appointment at his dentist. But then it is business for Arthur, Merlin reminds himself. It's a job, a way to earn money.

Merlin swallows heavily, but he knows he has to ask. ''H-How much would that be then?''

There is another small pause. When Arthur speaks again, his voice is cool and calm, like the surface of a mountain lake. ''My price depends on what we do. My fees are two hundred per hour or two thousand for the whole day. If you want to do any kinky stuff I might charge you extra. I don't do the heavier stuff like watersports, scat or painplay.''

Merlin doesn't even know what half of that means and so he just stammers, ''No... uh.. that's fine... I don't really-. I'm not that kinky.''

Arthur chuckles. ''Well, we will see,'' he says mysteriously.

Merlin takes a deep breath, then he blurts, ''I look forward to seeing you again.''

Another pause, and when Arthur's voice comes back over the speaker he sounds weird.

''Then I will try to make it worth your while. See you Thursday, Merlin.''

The next thing Merlin hears is the signal, telling him that Arthur has hung up.

~*~

When Thursday comes around Merlin is so jittery he hasn't been able to eat all day and has finally given up work, deciding to go home early and prepare. He has cleaned the flat meticulously, getting rid of the dirty socks from the couch and the piles of dishes in the kitchen. He has showered and washed his hair twice and has spent about two hours trying to decide what to wear before he settled on his favourite pair of jeans and a black button down. He has bought a bottle of wine, even though he doesn't know much about it, and the pasta sauce on the stove is merrily bubbling along, filling the flat with delicious smells.

It's almost done when the door bell rings at exactly eight o'clock.

Merlin opens the door, and for a moment his heart stops. He had expected Arthur to show up in his tailored suit again, but instead he is wearing jeans that seem to be painted on his strong legs, a simple white T-shirt and a soft looking, chestnut coloured leather-jacket that sets off the golden tone of his skin and hair. His eyes are almost too blue to be real and the small smirk playing around the corners of that beautiful mouth makes Merlin die a little inside.

''Can I come in?'' Arthur asks after a few moments in which Merlin has failed to find his speech.

''What? Oh. God, yes. Please. Come in!'' Merlin ducks his head and pulls the door open further.

Arthur chuckles when he walks past him.

And then he is there, in Merlin's open plan flat which he still doesn't really believe he can afford. The kitchen is to the right and the living room with the cosy monster of a couch is to the left, and Merlin feels self-conscious as Arthur curiously looks around. Merlin's isn't one of those sparse, clean designer flats. It's pretty much a cluster of everything Merlin, from his books and DVDs to the throw pillows his mother made for him and the Star Wars figurines. It's like his whole life is on display and Merlin waits with baited breath for Arthur to sneer or laugh or mock him.

Arthur does none of that though. His smile stays friendly and charming when his gaze returns to Merlin who is still standing by the door, watching Arthur while unconsciously gnawing on his bottom lip.

''You have to give me the money first,'' Arthur says after a moment of silence.

He says it with a calm sort of serenity that baffles Merlin but he hurries to fetch the envelope that has been sitting on the kitchen counter like a small bomb the whole day. Merlin knows that it's not illegal to do what he and Arthur are doing, but it feels incredibly weird to hand Arthur ten crisp hundred pound notes so that he will spend the evening with Merlin and he'd rather get it over with as soon as possible.

''It's uh... I didn't know exactly, because you said we might see but... I thought you might stay for a while and I don't know if it's common to give a tip in your profession, so... uh... yes. I hope this is alright?''

Arthur takes a brief look inside and then puts the envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket before he shrugs out of it. ''It's perfectly fine. Thank you,'' he says, draping his jacket over a chair.

''So,...'' Arthur starts, but Merlin suddenly can't stand any more business like questions, and he blurts, ''I made salmon pasta. I hope you like salmon?''

He wipes his sweaty hands on his trousers, and rushes into the kitchen to turn down the heat on the sauce and drain the pasta.

It takes Arthur a moment to answer, and there is a note of hesitation in his voice when he does. ''Uh... sure. You didn't have to cook though.''

''Oh,'' Merlin smiles while he pours the sauce over the steaming pasta. ''I like to cook, but it doesn't make much sense to do it for one person and then I often get home rather late, so... I thought it would be a nice opportunity.''

Arthur only nods.

''I hope you like the wine,'' Merlin continues. Talking is one of his ways to cope with nervousness and he can't seem to stop now however much he tries. ''I don't know much about wine. I mean, I like it, but I never really had much opportunity to taste different things, and certainly not the more expensive ones. But the guy in the shop said it's his personal tip and so it can't be all that bad, well I hope it isn't-''

''Merlin.''

Merlin almost jumps when there are suddenly Arthur's warm fingers draped over his left wrist, and he freezes a little before he looks up with a weak smile.

''Sorry,'' he says sheepishly. ''I babble when I'm nervous.''

''Relax. You don't have to impress me here,'' Arthur says, smirking at Merlin. ''That's my responsibility.''

''Oh.''

''Merlin...'' Arthur's eyes are intense as he studies Merlin's face, and then his gaze drops to Merlin's lips and suddenly there is Arthur's hand cupping his cheek, his thumb pressing against the corner of Merlin's mouth. ''You really have no idea, do you? How completely captivating you are. How you almost seem to defy every concept of beauty to come up with something entirely new and mesmerizing. But you do, and I really would like to kiss you now.''

Arthur's voice is a low, seductive murmur and it does things to Merlin. Something tightens in his belly and it's almost as if every drop of blood is in a hurry to rush to his cock in eager anticipation, of what Merlin doesn't even know.

''Doesn't- doesn't that only come later?'' Merlin croaks. ''I mean after...''

Once more Merlin has to realise that he doesn't really know what he's doing.

Arthur smiles at him and meets Merlin's eyes when he says, ''You do know this isn't really a date, do you Merlin? You've paid for my time, and usually that means you've paid to have sex with me. It's up to you of course, but there really is no need to dance around it.''

Merlin swallows heavily. Yes, of course he does know that, theoretically at least. But being confronted with it, being faced with Arthur's blatant sexuality, is quite a difference.

''O-Okay,'' Merlin whispers, and Arthur seems to take that as permission, because his eyes return to Merlin's mouth. He echoes Merlin's 'okay' before he softly presses his lips against Merlin's.

Merlin sighs against the warm touch of Arthur's mouth, lets him explore when Arthur's tongue runs along the seam of Merlin's lips, opening them up and diving into the cavern beyond. Merlin has been kissed before, once, when he and his best friend Will decided to experiment, but it was nothing like this. This is like liquid heat and golden fire and when Arthur's arms come up around him, it's like he is taking possession of Merlin, making him Arthur's and Arthur's alone.

After they have kissed for a while, the pasta long forgotten and probably turning cold already, Arthur whispers against Merlin's ear, ''Do you want to take this to the bedroom?''

A blaze of heat shoots through Merlin, making him almost dizzy, but his nerves come back as well, screaming at him, demanding what the hell he is doing and, oh god, is he sure he wants to get naked? In front of Arthur?

''If- if you want to?'' Merlin stammers, involuntarily curling his fingers into Arthur's shirt.

Arthur chuckles. It's a warm gush of breath against Merlin's neck and it's so good that Merlin nearly forgets his embarrassment.

''It would make this definitely easier, don't you think?'' Arthur says with a smile in his voice. ''Although we can fuck on the kitchen counter, if that's what you like.''

The image alone makes Merlin tremble, but he doesn't think he is quite ready for that. ''No... I- I think the bedroom... it's the door on the other side.''

When Arthur pulls his arms away from Merlin, he feels bereft and almost cold for a moment. But then Arthur takes him by the hand with a flirtatious smile and leads him across the flat, opening the door to Merlin's bedroom. No one but Merlin has ever been in there, and having Arthur – gorgeous, godlike Arthur – standing next to Merlin's bed with dark, hooded eyes is almost too much for Merlin to take.

Arthur holds out his hands to Merlin, backing him closer, and Merlin feels rather timid when he steps into his embrace.

''What do you want to do?'' Arthur asks, while kissing the side of Merlin's throat. ''Anything special?''

''I-'' Merlin swallows heavily. ''I don't know. What do you usually...?''

Arthur chuckles against his skin. When he looks at Merlin, his eyes have that sparkle of amusement Merlin loves so much. ''There's no 'usual' Merlin. People like different things. Some like me to use my mouth.'' Arthur lets his tongue slide over his bottom lip before he bites it. ''Some like to be fucked...'' A hand glides down to grab Merlin's arse. ''Or they like to fuck me.'' The hand moves around Merlin's hip to cup his straining, jeans covered erection, and Merlin shocks himself with the guttural moan that escapes from his throat.

''Why don't we start with getting naked,'' Arthur whispers.

He presses another soft kiss to Merlin's mouth and then he takes a step back, grabbing the hem of his T-shirt and slowly lifting it up his torso, exposing a taut belly and broad, muscular chest. He pulls the shirt over his head, ruffling his hair in the process, and drops it to the floor unceremoniously.

Merlin can't help but stare. Arthur looks beautiful and confident and all the things Merlin isn't. When Arthur raises an eyebrow at him expectantly, Merlin blushes and Arthur huffs out a small laugh.

''I see,'' he says, grinning, and – with his eyes fixed on Merlin's - puts his hands on the buckle of his belt. He unclasps it slowly, almost exaggeratedly, and then pops the buttons of his jeans one by one, letting it gape open around the bulge now on display. He turns around, and for a moment Merlin feels disappointed, until Arthur throws him a seductive smile over his shoulder and then slowly pushes the jeans down his legs. The blood red material of the boxer briefs strains over his arse as he bends forward and Merlin never wanted to touch anything in his life so badly.

With the jeans gone, Arthur turns back around to face Merlin, teasingly hooking his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his pants. He is hard, which maybe shouldn't be such a surprise to Merlin, seeing as what they are supposed to do, but it still comes to Merlin as a bit of a shock – that someone like Arthur can get aroused by the idea of having sex with Merlin.

''I think we're getting into a grossly unfair imbalance of nakedness here,'' a voice filters into Merlin's preoccupation with ogling everything that is Arthur.

Merlin looks up nervously. He knows Arthur has a point, but that doesn't change the fact that Merlin is incredibly embarrassed to put his own scrawny body on display.

''Do you want me to help you with that?'' Arthur asks with a teasing smile, and well, it's probably better than doing it himself under Arthur's scrutiny.

So Merlin nods. He hasn't been prepared for the next bit though, because Arthur doesn't simply undress him. He touches Merlin, with hands, lips and tongue, first above his clothes and then every bit of skin he uncovers. He unbuttons Merlin's shirt and lets it fall open, stroking over Merlin's pectorals and rubbing over his nipples before he bends forward to lick and nip at them with his teeth, making Merlin shudder. He slides the shirt off Merlin's shoulders stroking down his arms all the way to his wrists and hands and fingers, which he then picks up, one after the other, to mouth at Merlin's palm and suck at his fingers hungrily.

Then Arthur kisses him again, forceful and rough. He rakes his fingers through Merlin's hair, pulling on it a little, and Merlin just lets him, revelling in the heat and the strength of Arthur's hands and the intoxicating smell of his skin. When the hands reach for Merlin's fly though, he freezes and Arthur – ever perceptive – gives him a questioning look. Merlin closes his eyes briefly, but nods, and there is another touch of Arthur's warm lips against his, reassuring and tender.

Merlin's jeans fall to the floor and he steps out of them, letting Arthur lead him to the bed and pull him down on it with him. Arthur stretches out next to Merlin, leaning over him and kissing along his jaw and throat and down to his chest. One hand lazily explores the trail of hair leading down Merlin's belly, moving over his hip and down his thigh only to come up again, gliding along the inside and gently urging Merlin to open his legs further.

Merlin feels exposed and vulnerable, and still so fucking aroused that he doesn't really know what to do but go along with it, trying to concentrate on all the places Arthur makes him feel good. But then Arthur pushes his hand inside Merlin's pants, and it's right there, wrapping around Merlin's cock, and Merlin almost jackknives, grabbing for Arthur's wrist before he can even think about it. His chest and his face are burning with a confusing mixture of shame and arousal. It's not that he doesn't want that, or well, maybe he doesn't know what he wants because no on has touched him there, like ever.

''Merlin?'' Arthur's eyes are worried and uncertain when he looks at him, but there is also something like dawning realisation. ''Merlin, you're not-? You have done this before, right?''

It's obvious from the tone in Arthur's voice though that he suspects that Merlin hasn't.

So he shakes his head, his eyes firmly pressed closed.

''Oh,'' Arthur says softly, and he slowly pulls his hand away from Merlin, eliciting something that sounds almost like a sob from Merlin's chest. Because as soon as Arthur's hand is gone Merlin wants nothing more than for him to put it back. He doesn't want this to be over. Doesn't want Arthur to get up and get dressed and leave because Merlin is too pathetic to deal with.

''Hey,'' Arthur says, and there is a gentle hand touching Merlin's cheek, turning his face towards Arthur. ''Come on, it's fine. There's nothing to be embarrassed about.''

He strokes Merlin's cheek, down his neck and over his chest, while he puts soft kisses on Merlin's closed eyelids before he turns back to gently nip at his lips.

''We can stop if you want, yeah? Or we can take it slow. It's really up to you, Merlin. There's nothing you can do wrong here, and there is no reason to feel ashamed. I had no idea that's the reason you called me, but I'm kind of flattered you want me to be your first.''

Merlin cracks his eyes open. ''It's not weird and stupid and boring?''

Arthur laughs, a real laugh this time, from his belly. ''No,'' he says, shaking his head. ''There's nothing stupid or boring about you. You might be a little weird – but I like that.''

He kisses Merlin again, and this time Merlin relaxes into it with a sigh.

They do take it slow then, so slow that Merlin is reduced to a whimpering, pitiful mess. Arthur keeps stroking him and touching him, kissing and licking and it's all so incredible, it makes Merlin feel like every cell of his body is strumming with awareness and arousal and just feeling so bloody good. But there is a pressure building up as well, there's something he needs, and his hand tries to move to his own cock, still hidden in his pants. Arthur stops him with a gentle grasp on his wrist though and continues to explore Merlin's body.

Merlin becomes a bloody mess of anticipation, feeling tense and growing more and more impatient, bucking his hips helplessly into the air, trying to find some sort of relief for his straining cock.

''Please,'' he whispers. ''Please...''

''You think you're ready for this?'' Arthur asks, and Merlin nods frantically.

''Yes, yes, yes. Pleeease, Arthur. Please!''

It's the most natural thing then, to lift his hips when Arthur pulls down Merlin's pants, and then Arthur's mouth is on Merlin's cock and the world whites out because surely this much pleasure must be impossible. Merlin gasps without breath, completely enraptured, and then he spurts, shuddering and trembling and maybe even crying, he wouldn't know. He has no idea where's up and where's down really, only that Arthur's mouth, hot like a furnace, is still holding him captive, every single sensation concentrated on it and the gentle suction with which Arthur is still coxing more of Merlin's juices out of him.

Just when the balance of pleasure and pain starts to dip to the latter, Arthur lets Merlin's cock slide out, blowing on it and then gently pressing his lips against it, drawing another shuddering gasp out of Merlin.

Merlin had thrown his arm over his face at some point, when the sensations started to become too much and pressing his eyes close seemed not enough to bear it. He blinks out from under it now, down his torso to where Arthur is kneeling between his wantonly spread legs. He's dishevelled and his mouth looks red and used, but he's grinning. There is a smug hint of self-satisfaction on his face, but Merlin decides that he has earned it.

''Nughu,'' Merlin groans, and Arthur chuckles.

''I guess that means you were satisfied with my services,'' he says, raising an eyebrow.

Merlin nods. ''God, was I ever.''

Arthur crawls up the bed and stretches out next to him on his side. Merlin looks down that glorious body, to where Arthur's erection is still standing tall against his belly.

''You didn't-,''Merlin starts. ''I mean should I-?''

Arthur smiles his damn smile of the twinkling eyes again, reaching up to push Merlin's sweaty fringe from his face. ''All in good time,'' he says. ''I'm not done with you yet.''

Merlin chokes out a laugh, because surely there can be no thought of a second round when he feels so completely shattered – as if his body has sprung into a thousand pieces and is lying in shards strewn all over his sheets.

They doze for a while, or well Merlin does at least, curling up against Arthur's side while the other man is gently running his fingers through Merlin's hair.

It's some time later – Merlin has really lost every sense for the passage of time – that Arthur rolls out of bed, and Merlin has a moment of sharp, piercing disappointment and hurt when he thinks Arthur is about to go. He doesn't though. He simply bends down to recover something from the pockets of his jeans. Then he stands there, in front of Merlin, naked and unashamed and beautiful in the soft light falling through the open door. And Merlin feels himself hardening again.

Arthur smiles at him and then lets his gaze pointedly drop to Merlin's already half-hard cock. Merlin thinks that it's probably too late to feel embarrassed – Arthur had Merlin's cock in his mouth not too long ago – but he can't help but feel laid bare, his body as much as the rest of him.

''Look at you,'' Arthur says, raking his eyes over Merlin. ''So gorgeous like this, all pliant and ready for more.''

Merlin ducks his head, but he feels a grin spreading his cheeks, and he doesn't feel embarrassed anymore when Arthur lays down next to him again, putting his tokens on the sheets between them. It's a bunch of silver square packages, condoms and lube, and Arthur looks at Merlin questioningly.

''Remember what I said.'' He looks at Merlin seriously. ''It's all up to you. But if you want... I thought you might like to fuck me?''

Merlin swallows but he can't stifle the moan that escapes him. His cock is hard as a nail, obviously very interested in Arthur's idea. But as much as the thought of claiming someone like Arthur, of pushing into Arthur's tight heat, arouses Merlin – he's not sure if he is ready for it.

''W-Would you really want to?'' Merlin asks uncertainly.

''Believe me when I say it wouldn't be a hardship,'' Arthur answers with a wink, and then he sits back against Merlin's headboard, canting his hips forward and pulling his legs up, feet planted squarely apart.

It's such a lascivious pose, but all Merlin can think is how incredibly gorgeous Arthur looks. There is not a hint of uncertainty on his face, nor any hesitation in his movements, when he rips open one of the packages of lube, squirting its contents on the fingers of his right hand. His other hand glides sensuously down his chest and belly, lazily stroking his stiff cock a few times before it moves further, in between his legs. He cups his heavy balls and lifts them, and then he spreads the beautiful round globes of his arse and Merlin's breath catches in his throat at the sight: Arthur's hole, small and secret, and now exposed for Merlin.

He should probably breathe but his chest feels tight and his cock is throbbing, need and want of never experienced proportions pooling in his belly. It's the intimacy of the act, the way Arthur's fingers circle the tight furl of skin, rubbing at it and smearing it with the glistening lube. Merlin draws in a ragged breath, staring almost hypnotised at the movement of those fingers, sighing when they finally push inside.

Arthur leans his head back, exposing his throat and moaning deeply when he pushes in another thick finger. His mouth is open and he's breathing hard, rocking his hips against his own hand in a rolling rhythm.

''God, this feels good,'' he breathes with a little laugh, and then his eyes look straight at Merlin. A little narrowed, and with a question and a challenge sparkling in their depth. ''You know what would feel even better?'' he asks, voice a soft, seductive whisper. ''Your thick, hard cock.'' He pushes his fingers inside himself with another moan. ''I want to feel it, deep in my guts, want you to ram into me like you're owning me and fuck me until I break apart.''

If there was any part of Merlin able to object, or question Arthur's words, it's been shouted down by the desperate desire straining his every muscle and weeping from his cock. Merlin can't think anything beyond, Yes yes yes, oh god yes.

He scrambles up the bed and reaches for the condom with shaking hands. He can do this, he can. He glances at Arthur when he fumbles with it, only managing to rip the foil open on the second try, starting to become self-conscious again. But Arthur just smiles at him with hooded eyes, breathing deeply in anticipation and fucking himself on his fingers.

Merlin rolls the condom on and smears his throbbing cock with more lube. He hesitates for a moment then, and Arthur reaches out with his other hand, the one that's not buried in his arse, urging Merlin to slide forward, in between the open V of Arthur's spread thighs. He pulls him forward by the nape of his neck and kisses him, open and wet and somehow reassuring and demanding at the same time. Then Merlin's cock nudges at Arthur's entrance, the fingers gone, only leaving the warmth of his pliant flesh.

''Come on, Merlin.'' Arthur whispers against his mouth. ''Fuck me good.''

Merlin makes a keening, sobbing noise when he sinks in, Arthur's heat fitting around him like a tight glove. When his balls are squashed against the globes of Arthur's arse, the other man wraps his legs around Merlin in an almost possessive way and Merlin shudders because this, this is the cruellest, most glorious pleasure he has ever felt. For a moment he's sure he's going to die at any second. He doesn't though and Arthur moves his hips against him, providing even more delicious friction and Merlin understands that Arthur wants him to move, to really go through with it and fuck him.

He pulls back until it's only the tip left in the grasp of Arthur's hole, and then pushes back in with a moan that feels like it's been ripped from his guts. He tries to find a rhythm that seems to suit the both of them, thrusting into Arthur with long, deep strokes and alternating between kissing him and mouthing at that delectable throat and neck. Arthur is panting, hands gripping Merlin's arse, and then he slides a finger down Merlin's cleft, just pressing down a little on his hole, and Merlin comes with a wretched shout, shuddering and sobbing as he pushes into the glorious heat of Arthur for one last time, spurting inside of him until he collapses, right onto Arthur's broad, heaving chest.

They lie like this for a moment, the evidence of Arthur's own orgasm sticky between them, and Merlin realises guiltily, that he has been rather selfish, completely preoccupied with his own pleasure.

''I'm sorry,'' he mumbles into Arthur's shoulder.

''Hn? What for?''

''I didn't... I should have- I didn't really make you feel good, did I?'''' Merlin says, feeling ashamed.

Arthur only chuckles. ''Oh Merlin,'' he says fondly. ''You really are a bit of an idiot, aren't you?''

''What?'' Merlin looks up at him.

''I asked you to fuck me, and believe me you did that pretty well.''

''But you had to take care of yourself,'' Merlin objects, looking at Arthur beseechingly. ''Next time I'll do better. I promise.''

Arthur briefly closes his eyes, and there's a slight wince on his face when he looks at Merlin a moment later.

''It's not like I'm your boyfriend, Merlin. So I won't complain about reciprocation,'' he says.

''Oh.'' Merlin looks down at where his hand is lying on Arthur's taut abdomen. He suddenly feels like an intruder in Arthur's private space. ''No, I guess you wouldn't,'' he mumbles, taking his hand away.

Arthur stretches to take a look at the alarm clock on Merlin's bedside table. ''I should go. It's already a quarter past one.''

He gets up, but he doesn't reach for his clothes immediately but rather walks, in all this naked glory, over to the bathroom door and vanishes inside. Merlin slumps back on the bed, feeling drained and exhausted, a strange sense of disconnection mixing with the satisfaction in his bones. He listens to the sounds of running water, and jumps a little when Arthur comes back, all cleaned up and carrying a warm, wet wash cloth which he hands Merlin.

Merlin takes it with a weak smile, gingerly starting to wipe at his cock and belly, while he watches Arthur getting dressed, his movements unhurried and efficient at the same time.

He slips out of bed and silently pulls on his own boxers and shirt, following Arthur out into the living room. It's the first time Merlin sees Arthur hesitate, hovering next to the chair he has slung his jacket over. Finally he looks up with a wry smile.

''Well, it was a pleasure, Merlin,'' he says, tone lighter than the expression on his face. He shrugs into his jacket, and then turns away.

The sight of Arthur about to walk out of his flat and his life makes Merlin feel desolate, and before Arthur can reach the door, he blurts, ''I'd like to see you again.''

Arthur stops. He turns back around and studies Merlin for a moment with an inscrutable look on his face, before he gives him a small nod.

''You have my number.''

The door falls shut behind Arthur, and Merlin is left, alone once more and staring forlorn at the bowl of cold pasta on the kitchen counter.

 ~*~

He doesn't call Arthur the next day, or the next. He makes it through the weekend by burying himself in his work, even spending Saturday in the fabric department hunting down lace and fighting with rolls of satin and organza. All the while his thoughts are not on the blond countess he is supposed to robe but on someone much more masculine and alluring.

By Sunday he is almost sure he dreamed up his evening with Arthur Pendragon. Only he could never invent all the wonderous, sinful things they did with each other – and his bank account quite clearly states that, yes, he did pay a thousand pounds for the experience.

He tries to distract himself, but has to come to the realisation that sitting on the couch, watching late night TV with the take away he grabbed on the way home, isn't really doing such a great job there. He has yet to make any friends in London – something that never came easy to Merlin. He was always too weird and awkward for the popular kids and too diligent and studious to hang with the losers.

Now he basically spends all his time surrounded by people who live and breathe the glamorous world of high society and haute couture. Merlin, on the other hand, dresses like some homeless person most of the time and certainly lacks the proper awe and deference for the fact that he is creating Countesse Vivian's wedding dress – which might be owed to the fact that Merlin thinks she's a silly goose. In any case, his weirdness doesn't earn him any lunch invitations and no one asks him out to join them for a drink after work. That's fine though. He doesn't get these people anyway, and his job is keeping him busy almost every hour he's not sleeping and eating.

There is this emptiness though, when he gets home late and finds his flat deserted. He even considered getting a cat, but they're not allowed in this block of flats and he's certain that a goldfish would only make him more depressed.

On Tuesday he finally breaks.

He doesn't make the same mistake of dialing Arthur's number and then hanging up again, but he stills needs a few minutes to get his courage up. He smooths his hair down and sits on the couch cross-legged, with the cordless on his lap. He takes a few deep breaths and tries to come up with what he could actually say to Arthur.

_'Hi, this is Merlin.'_ He doesn't really get any further.

_'I would like to make another appointment'_?

_'I would like to find out how your cock feels up my arse'_?

_'I can't stop thinking about your fucking eyes and the way they crinkle when you smile like you mean it'_?

Merlin sure can't come up with anything that sounds normal and not- well, not like he's calling Arthur to ask him whether he'd be willing to have sex with Merlin for money again. Only that's exactly what he's about to do isn't it? There's just no way that Arthur would want to see Merlin otherwise. Even if Arthur had been gentle and generous and almost sweet, surely that was just the way he would treat any of his customers?

Merlin has to admit that the sex had been incredible, mind-blowing and probably the single one experience of Merlin's life when he couldn't think of anything that would have made it better somehow. But he wants to do more than shag Arthur – who might have been a bit of a prat the first time they'd met, but was also funny and clever and intriguing. And while Merlin knows that it's not dating what they're doing, Merlin can't think of a reason why they can't have a meal together when Nimueh even took him to a party.

Determined, Merlin takes a deep breath and calls Arthur's number.

''Arthur Pendragon.''

''Hi, this is Merlin.'' Okay, so far things are going according to plan.

''Merlin. Hi.''

Only the plan wasn't very elaborate, was it?

''I was- uh, wondering... whether you would, you know, uh... see me again?'' Merlin bends forwards and buries his burning face in the fabric of his jeans. ''Ughuuu.''

''Pardon?'' there's a confused sort of amusement in Arthur's voice. ''I'm not sure I got that last part.''

''No, I'm just... sorry. I'm kind of nervous?''

Arthur chuckles. His voice gets that cover of dark chocolate again, which means it goes straight to Merlin's cock. ''And here I thought, since we got to know each other quite well the last time, there would be no need for nerves any longer.''

''Well-.'' Oh god, that sounded almost like a squeak. ''Uh- I'm just kind of... new to this.''

Arthur laughs. ''Yeah, I noticed.''

Merlin glares at the phone. So much for being less of a prat.

But before he can say anything, Arthur says with a teasing, unapologetic smirk in is voice, ''Not that that's a bad thing exactly. Also, in regard to your question: Yes, sure.''

The smile he can hear in those two words kind of takes the wind out of Merlin's sails. The insult, directed at Arthur's obnoxious smugness, gets stuck in his throat when a sigh of relief wants to get out at the same time.

''Oh. Okay. When are you free then?''

''I could do Saturday, but probably not before 9 pm. Would that be okay for you?''

Merlin nods, even though he knows Arthur can't see it. ''Yes. Yes, Saturday would be great.''

''Anything special you want to do, or is this another private meeting?''

''I-'' Merlin swallows. ''I really would like to have a meal with you this time.'' When Arthur doesn't answer immediately, he babbles on, ''It's not that I didn't like the sex. The sex was incredible, and uh... I would certainly not be against a repeat performance. I mean, not that you'd have to perform, just, you know, I liked it. All of it. A lot.''

Merlin screws his eyes shut, when he hears Arthur's soft chuckle again, glad that the other man can at least not see the evidence of Merlin's mortification. Why does Arthur make him lose the ability to string a coherent sentence together? Taking a deep breath, he says, ''But... I'd like to get to know you better.''

''Merlin,'' Arthur says after a moment and his voice actually sounds awkward. ''You do realise I'm not your boyfriend, right?''

''What? No! No, of course not. I'll pay you. Of course I'll pay you. I'm just- well, you know that I'm not exactly very experienced, and there's something I'd like to do – a sex thing – but... I think it would be easier if... if I didn't feel like this was just about that. Or...'' He hesitates. ''Is this too weird?''

The answer is a tired sort of laugh. ''Oh Merlin, believe me when I say that you wanting to have dinner with me is by far not the weirdest thing anyone has ever asked of me.''

''Oh. Okay.'' And Merlin really shouldn't start thinking about what the weirdest thing might have been then.

''As long as you are aware that this is a business deal,'' Arthur says with a strange sort of firmness that feels almost forced, ''we can do what ever you want.''

''Then I'd like to have dinner with you and have you fuck me afterwards.''

There's a choke and a crashing sound, and Arthur mumbling, ''Jesus fucking Christ...''

Merlin freezes and then frowns. ''Arthur?'' he asks uncertainly after a moment.

''Yeah, no, I'm... I'm still here. Just- uh, dropped something.''

''Are you alright?''

''Yes, yes...'' Arthur says hurriedly, coughing a little. ''I uh- I'll see you Saturday then. Bye Merlin!''

When Arthur hangs up, Merlin is left staring at the phone, wondering what that was about.

~*~

A spell of cold has gripped the city when the weekend arrives; it's raining outside as if the world is trying to come to an end. Merlin has decided that curry would be exactly the right thing under these circumstances. He has a recipe of his mum's that needs a thousand ingredients, but she's perfected it over the span of decades and it's the reason for many a jealous glare in the village of Ealdor. Merlin is sure he can't do wrong with it.

The flat is filled with the smells of food, the table is set and Merlin has just tried for the hundredth time to get his hair to lie flat, when there's the sound of the door bell.

Arthur's hair is slightly damp from the rain, curling at the nape of his neck, and he wears a thin, red cashmere sweater that stretches along his broad shoulders and moulds over his pectorals like the icing of a toffee apple. There's a hint of collarbone peeking from beyond the v-neck, and Merlin gets lost for a second just staring at Arthur's throat.

Arthur raises his eyebrows at him in amusement. ''Looks delicious,'' he says with a grin, and Merlin can't help but roll his eyes at him. He doesn't even try to hide his blush, hoping he can blame it on feeling warm from cooking.

It's a little awkward at first when they sit down and Merlin ladles the food on their plates. Because while Arthur is right that they got acquainted quite intimately the last time, they never got to talk much – and it shows. Then Arthur takes one bite and looks up in surprise.

''Damn,'' he says. ''This is good.''

''Thank you.'' Merlin's smile is bright as the sun. ''It's a recipe of my mother's.''

The look on Arthur's face is weird, and his smile inexplicably turns sad when he says, ''Oh. That's nice. Her teaching you, I mean.''

Merlin laughs. ''I actually had to beg her to give it to me. She keeps it like a state secret and said I could just come back to visit if I wanted to eat it. But getting to Ealdor by train takes me the better part of a day and I'm addicted.'' He shakes his head with another chuckle. ''Don't get me wrong, I'd still go any chance I get because hers? It's even better!''

When Arthur just smiles at him, something almost like regret lingering in his eyes, Merlin sobers a little. ''Did your mum teach you to cook? Any special dish maybe?''

Arthur's face turns blank. ''No,'' he says, looking away. ''My mother never had the opportunity.''

''Oh. Did she work a lot?''

Arthur stares down at his plate, the spoon frozen in his hand. All Merlin can see are his long blond lashes.

''She died,'' he says quietly. His voice is calm, but the fingers curling around the spoon are stiff with tension when he dips it back into the sauce and lifts it to his mouth.

''Oh my god, I'm so sorry,'' Merlin whispers, and his heart breaks and drops to his stomach, pieces aching for the man sitting opposite from him. His hand reaches out on its own volition, the tips of his fingers touching Arthur's wrist before Merlin can stop himself. It feels incredibly inadequate, but he strokes his thumb over the inside of Arthur's wrist in the only show of comfort he can think of. He doesn't think the other man would appreciate it if Merlin offered a hug.

Arthur seems to stare at Merlin's hand for a moment before he shakes himself. ''It's fine,'' he says, managing a smile when he looks up at Merlin, even if his eyes are still troubled. ''I'm sorry,'' he says, with a frown. ''I shouldn't have told you that. I didn't mean to spoil your mood.''

Merlin shakes his head minutely. ''No,'' he says quietly. ''It's me who's sorry.''

Arthur rolls his eyes. ''It's not like you could have known,'' he says with obvious finality, and then changes the topic. ''So where is this 'Ealdor'? Sounds welsh.''

Merlin sighs but he knows there's a smile on his face when he says, ''Yes, it's in Wales. Or just left behind the moon, as Will and I used to say.''

''And who's Will? Your high school sweetheart?''

It's said with a mocking grin, but Merlin only glares a little. Arthur has earned himself some mocking rights and it resolves the lingering tension.

''He was my best friend. Well my only friend actually.''

''Past tense? What happened?'' Arthur shoves another spoonful of curry in his mouth but his eyes are on Merlin. He looks like he's truly interested, and that makes Merlin tell him the truth.

''When we were sixteen we both still hadn't kissed a girl – or, well, anybody – but I was only slowly starting to realise that I'd rather kiss a boy, should it ever come to it. Will said it would be complete bollocks if we would find some girls to kiss only for them to mock us for our lack of skills. So he proposed we should try it out with each other because lips are lips, right?''

Arthur nods, his face turning into a sympathetic grimace as if he already knows where the story is going. Yeah, Merlin knows it's not very original.

''We did. Try it out. Only... I really liked it. And I made the mistake to tell Will as much. When I asked him whether we could kiss again, he punched me.''

Merlin cringes, remembering that disaster of a day. Will's betrayed face and the hurtful words shouted at Merlin, before he slammed the door on his way out. 'I'm not gonna kiss a homo, that' disgusting!'

''We didn't speak until graduation, when he told me he was sorry and, you know, good luck. But, yeah, it was clear we weren't friends anymore. I haven't heard from him since.''

''Sounds like you're better off without him,'' Arthur says with a disparaging curl to his mouth.

Merlin shrugs. ''Maybe. But he was the only friend I had. We'd known each other since nursery.''

''If he'd really been your friend he wouldn't have dropped you just because you're different,'' Arthur says unrelentingly.

Merlin knows he has a point, but Will had been sixteen, just like Merlin, and Merlin was sure he had regretted what had happened just as much. They simply had not been able to find a way back from the line that had been crossed.

''Hey.'' Merlin looks up from his musings only to find Arthur staring at him with a serious expression. ''He's not worth it.''

Something warm unfurls in Merlin's chest at the sight of Arthur, with his jaw set and his deep blue eyes without a trace of mocking or even flirtation. This, Merlin thinks, is a glimpse of the true Arthur.

''Thank you.''

Arthur shrugs. His smile looks almost uncomfortable, and Merlin realises that Arthur doesn't like to be seen for who he is, that he didn't mean to drop his mask even if it was just a little, just for a second. Merlin is still glad for it.

They eat in companionable silence for a while until Arthur puts the spoon next to the empty bowl and leans back in his chair to study Merlin with his head cocked and his eyes hooded. He looks like a sated jungle cat watching its prey, casually musing whether it has the energy to pounce.

''So,'' he says picking up his napkin, dabbing at the corners of his mouth in a way that reminds Merlin he compared Arthur to a king the first time he saw him. ''Why don't we talk about the other plans you have for tonight?''

Merlin feels his cheeks grow hot with what is probably a deep crimson blush covering his face, but he refuses to be any more of a virgin maiden and forces himself to not avert his eyes, looking straight at Arthur instead.

''I've been thinking about how it would feel to be the one- How it would feel to... to be fucked. I mean, you looked like you enjoyed it and...''

He trails of a little uncertainly. Arthur did look like he had enjoyed to be entered, and while Merlin is aware that, given his profession, Arthur probably wouldn't be above faking it, there had been evidence that spoke against that theory. Also Merlin has read up on the topic and is well aware of the anatomical reasons men enjoy anal stimulation.

Arthur's smile is lazy when he says, ''Oh, I did like it. Very much so.''

Merlin nods. ''Well, then I'd really like to try it. If you are not averse to-''

''Fucking you? Not at all.''

Arthur leans forward and picks up his wineglass, swirling its contents with a thoughtful expression. ''I'd have to thoroughly prepare you of course. Open you up for me.'' He tilts his head, studying Merlin as if he's a canvas about to be painted. ''I might blow you a bit first, to relax you. Lick you and suck you until you fill my whole mouth and I need to swallow you down and take you into my throat.''

Arthur takes a sip of the wine and his adam's apple jumps when he swallows it, drawing Merlin's attention to where he can't help but imagine his now rock hard cock to go later.

''Can't keep that up for too long of course, can't breathe around your cock when it's lodged so deeply inside of me, and I wouldn't want you to come right away, would I? Not when I have so much else planned for you.''

''W-What else would that be?'' Merlin asks a little breathlessly.

''Hmmm...'' Arthur runs his forefinger musingly along his lips, and Merlin swallows heavily. Arthur's mouth is rather sensual. He's almost startled when Arthur continues, his voice low, ''I'll worship your balls for a while, sucking them and fondling them until you calm down a little. Then I can dive deeper, part your cheeks and expose your hole. It's beautiful. Such a tight little furl all pink and ivory. It will look delectable, and I know I'll want to taste it.''

Arthur looks at him with a thoughtful frown. ''Not sure yet how I'll go about that. I could just lick your cleft from your tail bone to your balls, getting you all wet and dripping. Or I could start with nipping at your cheeks, slowly making my way further until I can press the tip of my tongue against your sweet little pucker. I'll wriggle inside and taste your musk, feel how hot you are.''

''Don't worry,'' he says with a smug grin. ''I'll lube you up good, make you all slick and shiny, and then I'll press a finger inside you. God, I'm sure you will be so tight around me, so very, very good. I'll finger you for a good long while, I think, take my time to massage you inside, fuck you with my fingers until you can take one more, and then another one. Until you're stuffed full with my fingers, twisting on the sheets and fucking yourself against my hand. Maybe I'll suckle your cock head for another minute then, because I can be a bit of a bastard.''

Arthur chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest that seems to reverberate in Merlin's belly, but his eyes are dark with lust when he continues. ''I won't be able to take it any longer then. My cock will be heavy and leaking all over your sheets. I will need to get inside you, and don't expect me to be a gentleman about it. I will pull my fingers out, leaving you empty and gaping, and hoist you up by your hips and turn you on your belly. I'll push your legs further apart, make you expose yourself even more. Would you want to hold yourself open? Or maybe you'll grip your headboard with both hands and arch your back like a bitch in heat - either way, you'll be amazing.

And then, Merlin, then I'll guide my cock to your entrance. You've seen it. It's big. And I'll push into you, slow but relentless. I will fill you up until you've taken me whole, until I'm pressed firmly against those pretty pale cheeks of yours, throbbing inside you and stretching your pink walls. Then I will fuck you. I can go slow at first, if you want to, let you adjust to my girth. But the more I'll fuck you and feel you clenching around me, desperate and needy, the more I'll lose control. I'll hold you, and maybe I'll bruise you, and I will drive my cock into you with long, hard thrusts, pound you until all you know is my cock in your arse and the slapping sound of flesh on flesh. It will be dirty, Merlin, and lewd and probably a little rough, but I will fuck you so good that you can't remember where's up and where's down or what's your own name.''

Arthur stops. They are both breathing hard now, eyes glued to the other one, and Merlin has the heel of his hand firmly pressed against his cock to stop himself from coming in his pants.

Arthur clears his throat and takes another sip of wine. ''Think that's something you'll like?'' he asks, his voice sounding rough.

Slowly Merlin stands up from his chair. He grabs the waistband of his shirt and pulls it over his head, letting it drop from his trembling fingers.

''Show me,'' he says.

And Arthur does. He keeps every single one of the promises he made and then some more. But being fucked by Arthur is still nothing like Merlin has expected. It's not a fantasy. It's real. Starting with Arthur pulling him close and kissing him hungrily, his lips still tingling from the curry, and Merlin thinks for a second that he tastes like home.

Arthur takes control of him, stretches Merlin out like a feast, and then starts to slowly break him to pieces. Merlin loses all sense of time while Arthur makes him curse and shout and beg, but at the same time those impossible blue eyes tell him he's safe with Arthur, tell him that it's okay to just let go.

Then Arthur takes him, fucks him and fills him. He wraps around him, strong and hot like the sun, enters Merlin slowly, stretching him and taking complete possession until he is buried to the root and Merlin feels owned and captive and yet powerful at the same time. He clenches around Arthur and makes him moan, deep and guttural, his voice dark and husky in Merlin's ear when he whispers how good he is, how hot and tight and beautiful. Merlin sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, tasting Arthur – soap and cologne and sweat and the scent of sex – and it makes him dizzy with how much he wants this; wants this to never stop and Arthur to stay right where he is, inside of him forever.

Arthur does bruise him a little before the end, but never hurts him. He takes Merlin to the edge of pleasure but never too far. And when Merlin comes, sobbing and laughing, feeling consumed and lost and more alive than ever before, his heart clenches in his chest with a bitter sweet feeling that he doesn't quite understand.

He curls up against Arthur's broader frame. Every nerve in his body is still singing with pleasure and he closes his eyes for a moment. He knows there is a stupid smile pasted all over his face, but he can't make himself care whether Arthur will think him a simpleton for it. When he opens his eyes again, Arthur is leaning over him, looking at him with fond eyes and that secret smile of his playing around the corners of his mouth again. Merlin wants to reach up and touch it, wants to redraw every line of Arthur's face, committing it to memory, as Merlin's to keep.

''So, Merlin,'' Arthur asks with gentle mocking. ''Did you find it enjoyable? Was it all that you hoped it would be?''

Merlin shakes his head. ''No,'' he says before he pulls Arthur's down into a sweet and lingering kiss, whispering the answer against his lips. ''I would never have dared to hope for something like this.''

He's not completely sure he remembers it right when he wakes up the next morning to the early rays of the autumn sun filtering through his flimsy curtains, painting a pattern on the sheets of the bed next to him. There's still an imprint where Arthur's body had lain a few hours ago. There's the echo of Arthur's whispered ''Idiot'' in his ear, and the ghost of his lips where he kissed Merlin's forehead.

~*~

It's not as if Merlin is stupid. He knows the facts. He knows how Arthur earns his living and he knows there are others who pay for his services. Merlin knows that Arthur isn't his boyfriend by the fact alone that he hands over an envelope with money every time they meet. A boyfriend would probably be a little less expensive. But even though he knows this, Merlin can't help but feel drawn to Arthur, and it's not because of the sex. The sex is glorious. But not as glorious as Arthur's smile when Merlin says something probably stupid that Arthur – for reasons unknown – finds endearing.

Merlin finds himself thinking of Arthur pretty much constantly through out the next days. When he sees something interesting or hilarious, he catches himself wondering what Arthur would think about it. His fingers twitch towards his mobile with the urge to text or call – which is weird because Merlin knows they don't have that kind of relationship.

But then Merlin walks home from the tube station on Monday, passing the little cinema he always wanted to check out, ever since he moved into his flat one street further. It's one of those theatres that don't show the big blockbusters but small budget films and foreign productions. Merlin recognises the poster in the glass case outside immediately; it has hung on the wall of his bedroom, at home in Ealdor, for most of his adolescent life. His heart beat picks up. They are showing 'King and Sorcerer', the director's cut even, and Merlin loves that film with a passion that might be slightly disturbing.

He doesn't even really think about it. He just rushes home, picks up the phone as soon as the door falls shut behind him and calls Arthur.

''Arthur Pendragon.''

Merlin can't help but smile at the by now familiar answer; it's just two words but he can already tell what mood Arthur's in. Today he seems distracted.

''Are you free next Thursday?'' Merlin asks, excitement still bubbling under his skin.

''Well, hello to you too, Merlin.''

''Hello, Arthur,'' Merlin says. Arthur's teasing only makes him smile brighter, and there's a strange warmth spreading in his belly.

It takes a few seconds but then Arthur snorts. Merlin can practically hear the eye roll in his voice when he says, ''Let me go check.'' A few moments later and he's back on the phone. ''Thursday is fine. I don't have any other appointments after four. When do you want me to come over?''

''Uh... actually, I thought we could maybe meet somewhere else?''

''That depends.'' Arthur sounds hesitant. ''What do you have in mind?''

Merlin swallows. Suddenly he's nervous as hell. ''Well, you see, there's this independent cinema round the corner of mine. And I uh... I'd like to go see a film?''

The silence on the other end is almost deafening, and all Merlin can do is babble on.

''It's one of my all time favourites, yeah? King and Sorcerer. But I've never watched it on the big screen, and today I saw that they're showing the director's cut next Thursday. At half past eight. So, I thought we could watch it and maybe grab a bite afterwards? Or, you know, we could just go back to my place...''

There is another beat of silence, and Arthur's voice sounds strange when he tries to clarify. ''You want to pay me to go to the cinema with you?''

Merlin's heart clenches. ''Is- Is that a problem?''

''...Not exactly. I just assumed you'd have friends with whom you could do that.''

That hits Merlin where it hurts.

''I do have friends!'' he says defiantly. Because he does. There's Gwen after all. And Lance. And he always says hello to his neighbour, a slightly unkempt blond girl with a tendency to wear riding boots. ''Just... not in London.''

''Ah.'' Arthur doesn't sound very convinced. ''What about your colleagues?''

Merlin scoffs. ''As if they would watch a fantasy bromance from the nineties!''

What he doesn't say is that he wants to go with someone special. Because the film is special to him. It made him realise so many things about himself, not least of all that he likes boys a whole of a lot more than he could ever like a girl. He could never show that part of him to the vultures he's working with.

He hesitates before he tries to explain. '' I'm not exactly chummy with the people at the fashion house. Most of them are arrogant arseholes.''

A bark of laughter explodes from the phone, and when Arthur's voice comes through the speaker again it sounds highly amused. ''I guess I can't fault you for that. Nimueh is the most vain and selfish person I have ever met, and the people that work for her are hardly any better. Some of them are complete bonkers.''

Merlin almost chokes on his laugh, and for a moment he feels like he's been ripped apart, right down the middle. Arthur's joking with him, inviting him in, and Merlin wants nothing more than take that chance, share the joke and moan some more about the complete stupidity of the people he works with. But the moment Arthur said Nimueh's name Merlin felt like he was stabbed right through the heart.

The reminder that Nimueh has slept with Arthur too – more than once apparently if he knows her so well – it really shouldn't bother Merlin. Realising how much it does, comes as a shock. For a second all he can see is Arthur, kneeling between Nimueh's spread legs, doing things-. Merlin thinks he might be sick from that idea alone.

When Arthur clears his throat, Merlin realises he has probably failed to say anything for a while. ''Okay. So they're out then I guess,'' Arthur says.

''Yes.'' Merlin swallows. ''Definitely.''

''You could always go on your own.''

''Yeah... I guess.'' The disappointment nearly turns his stomach for real. ''It- It was just an idea. Don't worry. You don't have to.''

He feels even more like an idiot when he hears the dejection in his own voice. It's not important. If Arthur doesn't want to see the film that's okay. It's not like Merlin ever found anyone willing to watch it with him before.

Instead of an answer, there is a deep sigh and Arthur mumbling something that Merlin doesn't understand. It sounds a little like 'must be crazy' and Merlin blushes because, yeah, he knows the film is a bit stupid but he really loves the two main actors and their chemistry on the screen.

''No,'' Arthur says then, and he sounds oddly resigned but not annoyed. ''No, It's fine. Shall I meet you there at quarter past eight then? To give us some time before the film starts?''

The smile that spreads on Merlin's face probably makes him look like the loon Arthur takes him for, but he doesn't care one bit because Arthur's words make him feel like he's won some kind of lottery.

''Yes. That would be awesome!''

~*~

Arthur's already waiting when Merlin comes rushing into the foyer five minutes late. He's wearing that leather jacket again and his hair is tousled, and for a second Merlin can't believe that he's really waiting there for him.

''Sorry!'' he pants when he jogs over to Arthur. ''I'm so sorry, but work was a major shit storm. The Countess freaked out because the wedding dress is egg shell and ''Egg shell, Mr. Emrys, is not white'' and apparently the dress has to be white even if she looks like a pasty cow in it.''

Arthur laughs, raising his eyebrows at Merlin. ''The Countess of Chester looks like a pasty cow?''

Merlin nods mulishly. ''She does when she wears white. Honestly, you need a tan to pull that off. A natural one if you please. But see if I care! Let her look shite on national television – it only serves her right!''

Arthur shakes his head, chuckling. ''Merlin, Merlin, who'd have thought you could be so devious. That poor woman!''

''Poor woman?'' Merlin grouses. ''She threw a shoe at me!''

Arthur throws his head back and barks out a laugh, and for a second Merlin is frozen because he looks perfect. And Merlin really, really wanted to see that film, but right now he would like nothing more than to drag Arthur into the next semi-private corner and shag him silly.

''Okay,'' Arthur says, still laughing, ''since you had such a shitty day, I'll buy you some junk. Tell me what you want and I'll grab it. My treat.''

Merlin firmly swallows down any cheesy innuendo about Arthur being the only treat he wants to eat up, and ends up stuttering a little, a flush painting his cheeks. ''P-Popcorn. The sweet one.''

Arthur's eyes widen, and he looks at Merlin scandalised. ''Sweet popcorn, Merlin? That's barbaric! Popcorn is meant to be salty.''

''Well then buy the salty for yourself if that makes you sleep better. Means there will be more of the good stuff for me. And bring a big bucket!'' He grins at Arthur cheekily.

Arthur rolls his eyes but when he comes back a little later, just on time to go into the theatre, he has a huge bucket of sweet popcorn, two cokes and chocolate raisins – and how did he know Merlin likes them almost as much as the popcorn?

They go in and find some seats towards the back, and Merlin settles into the plush chair happily when the opening credits start with the familiar music. It's so amazing to see his favourite story unfold on the big screen. But, even more than that, it's awesome to watch it while Arthur's shoulder presses warmly against his and their fingers keep brushing against each other in the popcorn bucket.

Wait a minute. With a frown Merlin glances down into the nearly empty bucket on his lap. ''I thought you said you didn't like it?'' he whispers, looking at Arthur accusingly.

Arthur only shrugs, grinning unrepentantly. Then he reaches out with one hand, brushing a crumb from the corner of Merlin's mouth with his thumb.

''It's growing on me,'' he says, staring at Merlin's lips for a moment longer, and Merlin feels his trousers becoming tight as his cock grows hard.

Arthur starts to rub along the seam of Merlin's lips and Merlin parts them almost involuntarily, letting Arthur in. He looks into Arthur's eyes, pupils wide in the dark, and hollows his cheeks around Arthur's thumb, sucking it. It tastes of the caramelised sugar from the popcorn and, underneath that, a lingering note that's just Arthur. It boggles Merlin's mind how this taste can be so familiar to him already.

Arthur's mouth falls open as he breathes out a small moan, and Merlin's eyes drop to his crotch. If he does see it right in the dark, Merlin isn't the only one whose jeans have grown uncomfortable. He chuckles and releases Arthur's thumb with a soft, wet slurp.

''That was nice,'' he says with an innocent smile. ''But I'd still rather have some more popcorn.''

He hands the bucket to Arthur with an expectant look. Arthur's eyes widen in disbelief. Then he reaches out and, while he pulls Merlin into a filthy kiss with one hand on his neck, the other sneaks down to press against the hard bulge in Merlin's jeans. Merlin makes an undignified sound, somewhere between a squeak and a groan, and Arthur pulls back – but just a little.

''It's not nice to be a cock tease, Merlin.'' he whispers against Merlin's lips. Then he gets up with a grin, grabbing the bucket on his way out.

Merlin sinks further down in his seat, trying to ignore the other film-goers who turn around and glare at him.

They watch the rest of the film without further interruptions, but Merlin sometimes finds it hard to concentrate when Arthur arm lies on the backrest of Merlin's seat, his fingers playing with the hair at the base of Merlin's neck. That doesn't mean he's not enjoying himself immensely. He loves watching the noble king and his cheeky sorcerer fighting against betrayal and the supremacy of an evil army, always at each other's side, turning towards each other when all seems lost. They are so obviously made for each other, and even if they never kiss it's clear to anyone with eyes that they are in love with each other.

Merlin blinks against his tears when in the end the sorcerer holds his dying friend because he gave his life to save him. The hand on his neck squeezes lightly, and Merlin hears Arthur mumble, ''You really are a bloody girl.''

But Arthur's voice is slightly rough, and Merlin can totally see the red in the corners of Arthur's eyes when they walk out of the theatre and back into the light of the foyer. He just smiles though, and refrains from saying anything.

When they walk home to Merlin's flat, their arms brushing each other occasionally, it's Arthur who finally breaks the silence.

''I've always wondered why they couldn't just have told each other how they felt.''

''Huh?'' Merlin looks at him surprised.

''Oh, come on. It's obvious they have the hots for each other. They are pretty much eye fucking all through the film!''

Merlin can honestly say he is completely stunned. Because Arthur is right, but that's not the official interpretation of the relationship between the two main characters.

''Well, they are star-crossed lovers,'' he says, excited he can finally discuss this with someone. ''It's tragic and romantic. Also, I think the sorcerer is really scared to confess to the king.''

''What does the sorcerer have to be scared about?'' Arthur asks with a frown.

''Maybe he is afraid that the king will reject him? You have to admit his behaviour can be pretty contrary. And... how could he assume that someone as glorious as the king could want him?''

''You think the king is that shallow? The sorcerer has become his friend. He's the only one who treats him like a person!''

''But the sorcerer knows that he can never have the king for himself,'' Merlin interjects, and damn if he doesn't know how that feels. ''It breaks his heart when the king marries that stupid princess!''

''But he only does that out of duty!'' Arthur objects, and he almost sounds agitated. When he looks at Merlin his eyes are very serious. ''He never had much of a choice. It's not just about him, there are others depending on him.''

Merlin swallows, his heart jittering under Arthur's intense gaze. ''Maybe the sorcerer realises that,'' he says uncertainly. ''He knows it wouldn't be fair to ask the king for more than he can give. And he would do anything to stay at the king's side. But... maybe he needs to protect his own heart.''

Arthur looks down. ''So you're saying the king has to die before the sorcerer realises that he was in love with him? That's kind of stupid.''

''Yes...'' Merlin frowns. He's wondering whether he is missing something. ''But it's also really romantic.''

When Arthur laughs it sounds tired somehow, but he reaches out to ruffle Merlin's hair with an eye-roll. ''You have a very weird idea about romance,'' he says. ''I'd rather not die, especially when I finally had found someone who loves me and completes me.''

''Yeah...,'' Merlin sighs. ''Like... two sides of a coin.''

Arthur looks at him from the corner of his eyes. There's a weird little smile playing on his lips.

''Exactly.''

''So... what's your favourite film?'' Merlin asks a little later. ''Maybe we can watch that the next time.''

Arthur stops. When Merlin realises it and turns back around, Arthur is standing with his hands on his hips, hanging his head.

''What's wrong?''

Arthur looks up at him. He looks exasperated. But he only says, ''Nothing.'' and walks on, brushing Merlin's shoulder as he passes him. ''My favourite film is Fatal Attraction.''

Merlin blinks, then he turns and jogs after him. ''Fatal Attraction?'' he asks when he's caught up. ''That's a joke right? You're joking?''

''Yes, Merlin. I'm joking.''

''Then what's really your favourite film? Come on. Is it that embarrassing?''

''How about Die Hard? Can never make a mistake with Bruce Willis.''

Merlin frowns. He's pretty sure that's not the truth either, but it seems Arthur really doesn't want to say, so he stops prying.

~*~

Back at the flat, Merlin wanders off to the kitchen to make tea. It takes him a moment to realise Arthur has followed him and is watching him, leaning with one hip cocked against the kitchen counter.

''Oh, uh... You like tea?'' Merlin asks, fidgeting slightly under Arthur's intense gaze. ''I'm sorry, I always make tea when I come home. I just assumed-''

''As always, Merlin, it's your call,'' Arthur says.

He pushes off from the counter and slowly saunters forward, eyes never leaving Merlin's. He walks right up to him, stepping into Merlin's space but not touching, so close that Merlin can feel Arthur's hot breath on his face.

''I just thought you might want me to do something about your little... problem,'' Arthur whispers and suddenly there are long, deft fingers trailing up over Merlin's jeans-clad crotch, turning his erection from slightly uncomfortable to almost painful.

Merlin sucks in a shuddering breath and can't keep his hips from bucking sharply against Arthur's hand. His own hands grip the kitchen counter hard, knuckles turning white from the effort to not reach for Arthur.

Arthur, smug bastard that he is, smirks. Merlin really wants to wipe that look of his face.

He looks straight at Arthur and says, ''I want to blow you.'' It costs him some effort but his voice is steady.

He's rewarded by Arthur's widening eyes and a soft choking noise that sounds all too familiar. Merlin raises an eyebrow at him, and Arthur's eyes narrow. He might just be on to him.

The hand on Merlin's cock squeezes a little and Merlin bites the inside of his lip hard.

''You're sure you don't have that mixed up?'' Arthur asks sardonically.

Merlin looks down for a moment and then glances up at Arthur through his lashes. He lets his mouth fall open with a soft exhale, his tongue coming out to lick his upper lip before he pulls his plush bottom lip in, softly dragging his teeth over it as he lets it go again.

Arthur's nostrils flare when he sucks in a sharp breath. He doesn't look smug anymore, he looks almost a little wild. ''You really are a little cocktease, aren't you, Merlin?'' he asks, his voice a dangerous whisper.

It's Merlin's turn to smirk now. ''It's not teasing if I plan to follow through.''

He firmly plants both of his hands on Arthur's chest and pushes him backwards until his arse hits the counter on the opposite side. It's exhilarating when Arthur stares at him with obvious shock, and Merlin would not be able to stop himself if he wanted to. He grabs Arthur's head and kisses him, pushing his tongue in and taking the mouth of a slack-jawed Arthur like he plans to let Arthur take his in a moment. Arthur only hesitates for a second before he kisses back, almost like a counter-attack, but Merlin is not about to make it that easy for him.

He pulls back and slowly sinks down to his knees in front of Arthur, dragging his nails down over Arthur's chest and belly until his hands stop to grip the strong, jeans-clad thighs. When he looks up Arthur's eyes are dark, unreadable pools of lust, and Merlin's own cock throbs in an answering desire.

''I've never done this before,'' he whispers softly. ''So you might have to guide me.''

Arthur gives him an incredulous look, but his breath is short and his cock is straining the material of his trousers. Merlin smiles. Then he puts his hands on Arthur's belt buckle.

He tries to take his time without looking as if he's stalling, pulls the zip of Arthur's trousers down and goes with his instincts. Leaning forward, he presses his face against Arthur's erection. The smell is strong but clean, a heavy musk with a lingering note of soap, and Merlin grabs Arthur's arse, mouthing at the hard flesh through the thin material of Arthur's boxers.

Arthur doesn't make a move to stop him, doesn't say a word either, but his breaths are deep and slightly strangled as Merlin continues to explore. He pulls Arthur's jeans down, letting them bunch around the other man's ankles, something inside of him liking the way they hold Arthur captive, almost like he's restrained. Arthur is like a beautiful feast in front of him, and for a moment Merlin just enjoys running his hands over the slightly furred thighs, squeezing the hard muscles of Arthur's bottom and even gently running the fingers of one hand along his cleft, all the way down to where his balls are still hidden inside of his pants.

When Arthur lets out a choked moan, Merlin finally takes mercy and pulls Arthur's boxers down, letting his cock spring free. He has seen it, but not like this. Not standing stiff and proud in the bright light of the kitchen while Merlin is kneeling in front of Arthur, still fully clothed and able to really focus all his attention on it. Arthur's cock is big – maybe a little shorter than Merlin's but thicker, curving up from a nest of dark golden curls towards his belly. The head is a full, dark pink and Merlin wants nothing more than to taste it.

With a quick glance upwards, Merlin grabs Arthur firmly around the shaft and guides him forward, towards Merlin's parted lips. He only takes in the head at first, tasting it and running his tongue along the underside, exploring the texture and shape. When Arthur answers his efforts with a deep sigh, Merlin tries swirling his tongue around the glands, sucking lightly.

Arthur trembles under his splayed hands, and Merlin grabs him firmly by the hips. He takes him deeper, hollowing his cheeks and sucking happily, liking the salty taste and the feeling of hard flesh in his mouth. Feeling adventurous, he tries to go even further, experimenting how far he can take it before he starts to gag on Arthur's cock, and thinks that he must do something right when Arthur's sharp breaths turn more and more into desperate moans now.

One of Arthur's hands comes to rest on the back of Merlin's head, fingers running through his hair and gently pulling, almost like he's begging. Merlin takes a deep breath. Then he goes down on Arthur as far as he can, sucking hard. Arthur lets out a broken off shout, hips rocking forward with a sharp thrust, and Merlin grabs Arthur's arse in surprise. His instinct to pull back and breathe is fighting with his need to take as much of Arthur as possible, to keep him deeply lodged inside of Merlin, owning him and being owned in return. He tries to swallow and Arthur shudders.

_'Merlin!''_

It's a sound like a sob, and Arthur comes, his body curling into itself, one hand buried in Merlin's hair and the other gripping his shoulder hard enough to leave bruises.

Merlin tries to swallow, coughing and spluttering, and finally pulls back to sit down on his heels and clutch Arthur's thigh for balance while trying to catch his breath. Arthur's hand is still in his hair.

Merlin looks up only to find him bowed over, eyes pressed closed and breathing hard. He looks debauched, a little broken, and incredibly beautiful. Merlin can hardly believe that it's him who's responsible for this, that he was able to do this to Arthur.

Then Arthur takes a deep breath and opens his eyes, finding Merlin's and choking out a laugh. ''Remind me to be more careful to challenge you in the future,'' he says with a breathless chuckle.

''You- You didn't like it?''

Arthur looks at him stunned. Then he sinks down in front of Merlin, all naked arse and red-bitten lips. He takes Merlin's face into his hands and plants a soft kiss right on his mouth.

''You are an idiot,'' he says wonderingly. ''Probably the biggest idiot I have ever met.''

''That's hardly encouraging.''

''Merlin, do I look like a man who didn't enjoy himself? Honestly?'' Arthur sounds almost exasperated.

Merlin ducks his head, but the smile on his face is bright.

''Yeah, just play all coy now, after you've blown me like a filthy little harlot!'' Arthur says amused. Then he adds, ''Just so you know, I plan on taking revenge as soon as I have regained the use of my legs.''

~*~

Arthur's revenge consists of stripping Merlin naked and bending him over the kitchen counter.

''Wait, don't move a muscle and don't you dare go and touch yourself,'' he whispers in his ear.

Then Arthur proceeds to raid the kitchen cabinets while Merlin stands there – stark naked, with his hard cock straining against thin air from between his spread legs. There's a shout of triumph, and a moment later Arthur's back with Merlin's blue-dotted honeypot, a present from Gwen when he moved to London. Merlin gives him a dubious look over his shoulder because he has no idea what Arthur's up to, but the smug bastard just raises his eyebrows at him before he sinks down to his knees behind Merlin.

There's a soft clink when he sets the ceramic lid down on the floor, and then Merlin jumps when he feels Arthur's hot breath against his exposed cheeks. Warm hands grab him and his cheeks are spread, and then something, presumably the honey, trickles on his skin, making a shiver run down his spine. Arthur's deft fingers smear the sticky substance all over Merlin's crack and down to his balls, and Merlin swallows on a nervous chuckle.

''Uh...I've got lube in the bedro-''

And then he shuts up because there's Arthur's mouth on his arse, pressing kisses against his cheeks, and Arthur's tongue, starting to lick him from his balls upwards, all the way towards Merlin's clenching hole.

Arthur makes a feast out of Merlin, smears him up with more honey and slurps on him like on a lollipop while Merlin nearly chokes on his own breath. All the while he's kneading Merlin's arse, fondling his balls, but never even so much as grazing his needy, leaking cock. Soon enough Merlin is whimpering, rocking his hips helplessly in the air. He tries to sneak a hand down to give himself some relief, and Arthur punishes him with a small, stinging slap - right on the arse he's lavishing in honey and kisses. Strong fingers curl around Merlin's wrist, squeezing it in silent warning, reminding him that Arthur's instructions still stand.

Merlin makes a pleading sound when he puts his hand back to claw at the counter, but Arthur is merciless. He opens Merlin up, pushing his tongue inside of him and then follows it by pushing in a finger. Merlin moans shamelessly when it finds that spot inside – the one that makes golden sparks explode behind his eyelids. And then Arthur pulls his fingers out again and Merlin sobs, arching his back and pushing his arse at Arthur in silent begging.

Arthur's thumbs spread him and heat creeps up in Merlin's cheeks at the thought of being this open, of Arthur looking at him like this.

The other man chuckles softly. ''Look at you, you really have a sweet tooth. Your hole's so hungry it ate all of that nice honey up. There's nothing left. What I haven't licked up from your arse and balls is inside of you now.''

Arthur pushes one thumb in, twisting it in circles. ''I wonder how we will get it back out?'' he asks with fake innocence. ''Then again, seeing as you are my own little honeypot now, maybe I should just use the instrument intended for this task. What do you think?''

Merlin looks back over his shoulder only to see Arthur holding up the honey dipper with a devious look on his face. The idea of Arthur pushing that thing inside of him is filthy and completely perverted but also really, really hot.

Arthur must have read that thought on his face, because he grins devilishly. ''You like that idea, don't you, Merlin? You like to be my sweet little honeypot, all ready to be eaten out.''

Merlin nods because, dear god, he might come from just the thought alone.

When Arthur guides the dipper into him Merlin tenses slightly, but Arthur strokes and kneads his cheeks, kissing them in reassurance. Merlin's hole clenches around the thinner shaft, and Arthur moves the dipper further, until its blunt head firmly pushes against Merlin's prostate.

And then Arthur fucks him with it and Merlin goes wild. There is the teasing feeling of the shaft moving back and forth in his pucker, the repeated pressure against his prostrate and Arthur – Arthur kissing the small of his back and his cheeks and fondling his balls and it's all too much, much too much too much... Merlin is going to burst and erupt in tiny pieces or just melt away like the honey until there's nothing left but a golden pool of goo and...

''Please, oh god, Arthur, please touch my cock! Please please please please please...''

And Arthur does, pulling at the dipper with a few sharp tugs at the same time, and Merlin thinks he must have blacked out then.

The next thing he knows, he's sitting in Arthur's lap, face pressed into a broad chest and Arthur stroking his back soothingly. Merlin feels as if he has climbed a mountain and then turned around and ran all the way back down. He's never been so exhausted. He's filthy, smeared with honey and sticky with cum and sweat and he'd still be content to just stay here, pressed against Arthur and never move again.

Unfortunately Arthur has other ideas. He pulls him up and guides him towards the bathroom and under the shower. Merlin smiles dopely when Arthur proceeds to soap him down and the other man shakes his head with a chuckle. When they are clean again, they stumble back into the bedroom together.

Merlin stretches out on the bed and Arthur sits down next to him. For a long time they just look at each other, and Merlin has never wished so much for the ability to read someone's mind.

''I forgot to give you the money before,'' he says quietly, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. ''It's in the envelope on the dinner table.''

Arthur's face remains impassive. ''That's fine.''

Merlin swallows. ''Can you stay for a little longer?''

He moves over to make room for Arthur and looks at him hopefully.

Arthur hesitates. His eyes move to the alarm clock. ''You've got another hour. So if you want to.''

Merlin nods and Arthur carefully stretches out next to him.

He just closed his eyes for second, but he must have dozed of and has no idea how late it is when he jerks awake, but Arthur's still there. The tips of his fingers are running up and down Merlin's spine in a gentle, soothing rhythm.

''I should go,'' Arthur says when he notices that Merlin's awake again, but he doesn't move.

A cold weight settles in Merlin's stomach. He wishes Arthur would stay, but he doesn't dare ask. What he wants even more though, it to see Arthur again. Lying half draped over Arthur's naked chest, he turns a little and puts his chin on his arm, studying the other man for a minute or two.

''Do you have many... regular customers?'' he asks and Arthur stiffens, a hardly noticeable tension in his muscles, but Merlin feels it against the palm of his hand.

''A few,'' Arthur says after a moment, but he keeps staring up towards the ceiling, expressionless.

Merlin swallows nervously. ''So... if I'd like to see you again next Thursday... that would be okay?''

Arthur quirks a smile. ''Yeah, sure. I think I'm free, but I can check later.''

''And if I wanted to see you every Thursday?'' Merlin presses on.

Arthur turns his head towards him then. His eyes are inscrutable, but his chin is set into a hard line. ''If you want to.''

''I do.''

~*~

It becomes a regular thing then. Arthur normally comes around on Thursdays and occasionally on a Saturday or Sunday. Most times they stay in. Although there is the one memorable time when they do go to see the Cartier-Bresson exhibition.

Arthur keeps subtly touching Merlin, letting his fingers glide along the back of Merlin's neck or the inside of his wrist. When Merlin stops in front of an exhibit, he steps up behind him – chin casually resting on Merlin's shoulder while his hard bulge is pressed firmly against Merlin's arse. Merlin can feel how his ears are heating up and his neck starts to prickle with goosebumps. He squirms, torn between pulling out of Arthur's embrace and pressing back into him, his own cock throbbing in his pants.

He really wanted to see the exhibition ever since Arthur mentioned it back at Nimueh's party, had thought it would be something the other man might like as well, but there is just no escaping Arthur's relentlessness.

Merlin finally breaks and drags Arthur off to the lavatories. The bastard laughs when Merlin shoves him into a stall, and then immediately presses him back against the door, locking it with a flick of his wrist. He licks and sucks on Merlin's neck, quickly unbuckling both of their trousers, and Merlin's hands grip and pull helplessly at Arthur's hair and the fabric of a shirt.

They end up fucking with Merlin's legs wrapped around Arthur's waist and his head banging against the toilet stall. It's almost a bit painful because they didn't take much time to prepare, but the way Arthur's cock rocks up into him is just right and Merlin moans shamelessly.

Suddenly the door to the lavatories is pushed open, and for a moment they both freeze at the sound of footsteps on the other side of the flimsy wall. Arthur puts a hand over Merlin's mouth, trying to calm his own panting breath. But Merlin is intoxicated with lust, heart beating wildly with the excitement of the forbidden, and he grins at Arthur devilishly. Let him see what he gets for being an insufferable tease, Merlin thinks, and clenches his inner muscles around Arthur's cock.

A tortured groan breaks out of the other man's throat before Arthur can stop himself, and he looks at Merlin incredulous when the footsteps outside stop and there's a moment of ringing silence.

There's a snort and an amused voice saying, ''Sorry, mate, didn't mean to disturb you. Carry on! I'm outta here in a second.''

The door falls shut again and Arthur glares at Merlin before he roughly pulls his cock out. He turns Merlin around and bends him forwards, shoving back inside of him and fucking him with hard, punishing thrusts. It's rough and hot and Merlin strips his own cock in a matching rhythm to the slapping sound of skin on skin. He wouldn't be able to stop the shit-eating grin from spreading over his face if he wanted to.

It's only later, when Merlin is back home, Arthur is gone and the heady rush of semi-public sex has abated, that Merlin realises that the whole thing has been kind of weird. He would have sworn that Arthur had been really interested in the exhibition at first, almost captivated by the intensity of the photographs.

Sometimes Merlin doesn't quite understand why Arthur is so eager to turn whatever they are doing into sex.

~*~

They keep going like this though, and sometimes Merlin almost thinks he could be content. Only he misses Arthur the rest of the days; seeing him for just that one evening in the week seems hardly enough when Merlin's thoughts are constantly pulled towards him, circle around him in a strange orbit of fondness and frustration. He has to admit he's become more than a little jealous of all the unknown people that occupy Arthur's time for the rest of the week. He keeps wondering whether Arthur smiles at them the same way – with his blue eyes sparkling, full of amusement and something else that Merlin can't name.

It's a Monday when Merlin finally comes to defy their unspoken agreement.

He's had a shitty day of epic proportions. It started with the small things like accidentally oversleeping because his alarm clock cancelled its service on the probably most important day of his career so far. Then he stumbles into the kitchen only to discover that he somehow managed to forget that he used the last of the coffee yesterday and burns the toast while he searches the whole of the flat for his second shoe. Nimueh is not amused when he comes rushing into the meeting with the Countess thirty minutes late wearing trainers.

The meeting ends with Merlin having to agree to ruin his design by adding so much glitter that it will look as if a disco ball exploded all over it. He might have also called the Countess a 'black hole for taste and creativity' but luckily she didn't realise that was not a compliment. Nimueh does though, and she gives him a dressing down that sums up to this: He has no say, his ideas are not his, and he better fucking do as he is told or she will see that he won't be able to get so much as a toe to the ground anywhere in the fashion industry.

After Merlin had started to turn a piece of work he was proud of into a monstrosity, he goes home feeling empty and silly for it. It's just a stupid dress intended for an even stupider person. But this, Merlin realises as he walks down the busy street towards the tube station, this is not what his dream was about.

Because it's just that kind of a day, and Merlin's life is apparently a fucking cliché, it starts to rain like the world is trying to drown itself in sympathy. Merlin steps into a coffee shop, mostly to get out of the downpour and bumps right into the broad frame of another man. When he looks up Merlin freezes and his heart stills for a beat.

''Will...''

Will looks at him, and the worst is that Merlin can still read everything on his face: the surprise, the awkwardness and discomfort, the guilt and the anger. Will is still like an open book to him.

''Uh... hi. I'm in a hurry, sorry.''

And then his former best friend – who became a part of Merlin's life after four-year-old Merlin shared his lunch with him in nursery, who slept in Merlin's bed for three weeks straight when his mum up and left when Will was nine, and who broke Tony Abbott's jaw because he called Merlin 'Dumbo' in front of the whole school – is gone as quickly as he crossed Merlin's path. After seven years of not having seen each other, not having spoken, he can't spare Merlin a minute.

Merlin turns on his heel, the packed coffee shop suddenly the last place he wants to be, and stumbles back out into the rain. He hesitates for a second, almost disoriented, before he starts to walk briskly with his hands buried in his coat and the beanie pulled down over his ears. He's not crying. It's just the rain that's running down his face. His heart hurts inside his chest, an old wound never truly healed seeping fresh blood. He could call his mum, or Gwen, but there is only one person he really wants to talk to.

He ducks into an entrance and pulls out his phone with trembling fingers, and when the call connects and Merlin hears Arthur's voice – deep, weirdly posh and so familiar – he sinks back against the wall with a relieved sob.

''Hello?''

''Arthur...'' Merlin takes a deep breath, trying to find some sort of composure. ''It's me, Merlin.''

''Merlin. Are you all right?''

''Yes. No. I'm not- I don't know. Are...Are you free tonight? I mean... Can you come over?''

There's a pause before Arthur says a little hesitantly, ''That's rather short notice.''

Merlin swallows. ''I know.'' Hope is dwindling and running away from him like the water that's dripping from his hair and clothes.

Another moment of heavy silence stretches between them, but then Arthur sighs. ''You're lucky though, someone just cancelled on me for tonight.''

Merlin's heart clenches, and he tries to hold back the sound that wants to escape from his chest like a broken lament. In the end all he can say is a whispered, ''Thank you.''

It's not what he wants to say, but it has to suffice.

A good half an hour later, he turns around the corner into his street and sees a tall figure approach from the other direction. He's half hidden under a large black umbrella, but Merlin recognizes Arthur immediately from the way he moves alone. The sight brings such a rush of relief and gratitude and joy that it makes him almost dizzy for a moment. He rushes forward to catch Arthur in front of the entrance to the block of flats and the blond man looks up startled.

His eyes roam over Merlin for a moment in obvious surprise, then he blurts, ''Bloody hell, what happened to you? Did you fall into the river?''

Merlin laughs, but it sounds fake to his own ears.

''No, I... I didn't bring a brolly this morning, was in a bit of a hurry. And I just took a detour now to pass by the bank.''

''For the money,'' he explains when Arthur just frowns at him and reaches into the pocket of his coat to pull out five slightly crumbled hundred pound notes. He holds them out to Arthur, who stares at the money, looking almost taken aback for a moment.

''Jesus Christ, Merlin,'' he mumbles, shaking his head. ''Maybe we could at least go inside first?''

Merlin nods quickly. ''Sorry,'' he says, but shoves the money at Arthur so that he can search in his other pocket for his keys.

They take the lift up to Merlin's floor, Arthur gazing at him from the corner of his eye, but not saying a word. Once inside Merlin's flat, Arthur puts the brolly by the door and slips out of his jacket before he turns towards Merlin – who is still standing in the middle of his own hall, dripping water on the hardwood floor.

''What are you waiting for?'' Arthur asks, looking at him exasperated. ''Get out of your wet clothes and take a shower. I'll make us some tea.''

Merlin stares after him stupidly when he just walks further into Merlin's flat and – from the sounds of it – starts to roam around in Merlin's kitchen. Then Merlin does as he was told. He slips out of his soaked trainers and walks over towards the bedroom leaving wet footprints in his wake. He shoots a quick glance into the direction of the kitchen before he slips through the door, but Arthur is engrossed in whatever he's doing and doesn't look up.

When the hot water of the shower meets his frozen limbs, it feels a little like heaven and a little like hell. He still remains standing under the spray for a lot longer than necessary,maybe hoping for the water to wash away some of the awful feelings that fill him up inside. It doesn't really work though. When he's finally done – has dried himself and put some old but soft sweats on – he pads into the living area on bare feet, looking for Arthur. He hears him talk and it takes Merlin a moment to realise that Arthur's on the phone.

''Yes, it's kind of an emergency. I'm really sorry. Will it be okay if I give it to you tomorrow night instead?'' He laughs. ''Oh yes, long and better than the last time, I promise you.''

Merlin stops short. It sounds as if Arthur is speaking to another of his clients. It's a sharp sting right through the heart, and even more: the idea of Arthur giving it good to some old pervert nearly makes Merlin sick. While he is fighting that desolate feeling of jealousy, it takes Merlin a moment before he realises that Arthur must have lied when he said his client had cancelled. It sure sounds like he stood up that person for Merlin's sake, and damn it if that thought isn't like a warm, healing balm right on his abused heart. It also puts a stupid, little smile on his face.

''Yes, I'll remember that. And thank you, Professor Gaius. I really appreciate your understanding.''

Arthur hangs up then and, when he turns around and sees Merlin standing there, a nervous expression flickers over his face. ''There you are,'' he says quickly. ''I was about to come looking whether you had drowned yourself.''

Merlin shrugs, smile turning wry and a little self-conscious. ''I contemplated it, but no.''

Arthur looks rather uncomfortable. ''Do you want to... you know, talk about it?'' he asks hesitantly.

Merlin sighs. He's not really sure if he wants to or not. There's this urge to tell Arthur everything, lay it all out until he'll be able to see and understand every little piece that makes up who Merlin is. On the other hand, he just wants to put the events of today out of his mind, curl up in Arthur's lap and have him take away that aching chasm of disappointment and hurt. He slowly walks over to the kitchen area, staring at the counter where Arthur has set out two cups, milk and sugar in a weird display of domesticity.

''I had a pretty shitty day to begin with,'' Merlin starts, tracing the lines in the wood of the counter. ''And then I ran into Will.''

Arthur stops spooning the tea into the pot and looks at Merlin with a frown. ''That guy you told me about?''

''Yes.''

''You didn't say he lived in London.''

''I didn't know until today.''

Arthur pulls a grimace. ''I don't assume that meeting went down so well.''

Merlin shakes his head. Sometimes, during all those years, he had thought about finding Will, trying to reconcile because, surely, after all that time they would be able to laugh off what had happened. He has still a hard time believing that Will just brushed him off the way he did.

''I bumped into him at a coffee shop,'' he explains with a lump in his throat. ''And all he said was 'Sorry, I'm in a hurry.' - then he left.''

Arthur raises his eyebrows in disbelief. ''What an arse...,'' he scoffs, only to give Merlin a slightly apologetic look a second later and amend, ''But an arse that's really important to you, I guess.''

''Yes. Yes, he was.''

Arthur nods grimly. ''I never had someone like that in my life,'' he admits. ''But I do know what it feels like to think someone cares about you, only for them to turn around and betray you.''

Merlin sucks in a sharp breath, eyes widening in surprise. This is... Arthur hardly ever speaks about himself, neither his present nor his past. Merlin has tried to subtly wheedle even the most unimportant information out of him – with little to no success one might add. He wants to say something, but all he can think of is a rather lame, ''I'm sorry.''

Arthur only chuckles humourlessly, and his face closes off in the way Merlin recognises as his default expression whenever he realises that he has given away more than he really wanted to.

''Don't worry. That... was a long time ago. It's water under the bridge.''

Arthur turns away to pick up the kettle and pours the boiling water over the tea leaves.

''I had not seen Will for seven years,'' Merlin says, pushing the topic against his better judgement. ''It still hurts.''

Arthur looks back at Merlin, and now his jaw is set into a firm, stubborn line and his voice sounds almost harsh when he says, ''I refuse to hand people like them, who don't give a flying fuck what becomes of me, the power to make me miserable. They don't care, I don't care.''

Arthur looks fierce, like the predator Merlin has likened him to the first time they met, but Merlin can see further than that now. He can see someone who has been hurt in the past, maybe more than Merlin is able to imagine, someone who doesn't allow himself to trust or depend on anyone, carrying the burden on his own shoulders instead, determined to walk it alone.

''Then you must be a lot stronger than I am,'' Merlin says quietly. ''Because I can't help but remember all the good things. I still want them back.''

The look Arthur gives him is almost pained. ''Like I said, I never had that kind of relationship.''

He pours the tea then, adding milk and sugar with precise movements, the only thing giving him away the stiff line of his spine. He hands Merlin his cup, and their eyes meet, and for a moment Merlin feels like he might drown in their blue depth. In some far off corner of his mind, Merlin wonders when Arthur has learned how he likes his tea.

''Thank you,'' he mumbles, taking a grateful sip only to look up at Arthur in true surprise a moment later. ''That- That's really good.''

The tension breaks, and Arthur rolls his eyes. ''I'd hardly be a proper Englishman if I couldn't make a decent cup of tea, Merlin. No offence to the Welsh.''

''None taken,'' Merlin rushes to assure him, frowning down at his cup. ''I normally just drop a teabag in the water. I didn't even know I had anything else.''

It's kind of fascinating how Arthur can insult Merlin just by looking at him, shaking his head as if he can't believe people like Merlin exist. It's even more fascinating that this can make Merlin feel all warm inside, a broad smile spreading over his face.

Arthur narrows his eyes at him and then, almost deliberately, cocks his head. ''So,'' he says, drawing that one syllable out and shooting Merlin a flirtatious grin. ''Now that we have averted the imminent threat of hypothermia... what do you want to do with me tonight?''

Merlin really should be beyond blushing at this point, but sometimes Arthur's blatant and almost forceful seduction makes him feel all hot and bothered and... well, like he's a customer. Which he is – theoretically – but it doesn't feel that way anymore. Maybe it hasn't felt that way from the beginning.

Anyway, tonight Merlin doesn't want to do sexy acrobatics. Tonight all he really wants is for Arthur to be there and to hold him and keep him company until he falls asleep. He looks at the smirking blond man questioningly.

''Can we just call for pizza and watch TV or something?''

Arthur raises his eyebrows and frowns at Merlin as if he is very, very weird. ''Uh... Sure... if that's what you want to do.''

''Yes. Please. How do you feel about a Star Wars marathon?''

Arthur shakes his head and huffs out an almost resigned sigh. ''As long as we stick to the original trilogy.''

Merlin snorts. ''As if I ever would watch those other films. I'm upset, I'm not suicidal.''

He hands Arthur the menu of his favourite pizza service, telling him to order what ever he likes as long as it doesn't have anchovies, and goes to put the first film in the DVD player.

They make themselves comfortable on the couch, and Arthur is sitting with his left arm stretched out on the back behind Merlin which, to Merlin, is practically an open invitation to cuddle. So he lets himself lean into Arthur, enjoying his solid warmth, and puts his head on the other man's shoulder. He still feels emotionally drained and exhausted but also weirdly content. All the anger and the hurt of the day have somehow bled away, becoming unimportant and trite, now that he's sitting next to Arthur, watching Obi Wan Kenobi coming to save Luke's arse.

He takes Arthur's hand and pulls it down to brush his lips against it in a gentle kiss. ''I'm glad you're here,'' he says quietly.

Arthur doesn't answer, but a few moments later he turns into Merlin a little, and then there's another hand, slowly running up the inside of Merlin's thigh.

''Want me to give you your money's worth?'' he asks, lips brushing Merlin's ear. The seductive whisper makes a shiver run down Merlin's spine.

It's a tempting offer. Arthur is always tempting. But tonight Merlin would rather just keep sitting like this, would rather be held in comfort than in passion, and so he shakes his head with a smile, stopping Arthur's hand before it reaches his cock.

''Can we just stay here, just like this?''

He looks at Arthur, feeling suddenly a little shy about it, almost more vulnerable than the first time he got naked in front of the other man. For a moment Arthur stares at him with an inscrutable expression before he briefly closes his eyes and nods.

''Of course. It's your call,'' he says, and Merlin wants to kiss him because he looks a little lost.

He goes with his instincts and leans forward, softly pressing his lips against Arthur's in a chaste kiss. He can only hope that Arthur understands what Merlin is trying to convey. That he doesn't have to be alone. That Merlin wants to be here for him too. That, maybe, Merlin is just a little bit in love with him.

Later, when they are both stuffed with pizza, Han is frozen in a block of carbonite and Darth Vader has revealed that he is really Luke's father, Merlin glances up at Arthur only to find him slumped back against the couch, head rolled to the side and fast asleep.

He looks younger that way, vulnerable and a lot less suave, but even more beautiful for it. He looks real, like the person Merlin knows is hidden under all that swagger, all that layers and layers of charisma and confidence and sexual aggressiveness, and Merlin yearns to know that man. He wants to strip away not Arthur's clothes but the masks and costumes he uses to keep people from seeing who he really is.

Merlin keeps sitting there for a long time, watching Arthur sleep, before he drapes a blanket over him and crawls into bed himself. When he wakes up Arthur is gone without a trace.

~*~

It becomes harder after that, almost like a battle. Merlin wants to get to know the real Arthur, the one he has seen glimpses of, but Arthur resists. When Merlin tries to have a conversation over dinner, trying to gently inquire after Arthur's childhood, all Arthur does is to obscenely fellate his spoon until Merlin has no idea where he was going with that sentence that is stuck in his throat.

Hoping to find out what sports Arthur might like, Merlin tells him he wants to work on his fitness and maybe they could go out for some kind of physical activity. They end up at the public pool, and Merlin thinks he's probably quite lucky that it's almost empty that late in the evening because otherwise someone might have walked in on them while Arthur was fucking him in the showers.

It's probably a sign of desperation when he asks Arthur to go to a costume party with him for Halloween, thinking he might be able to tell something from Arthur's choice of costume alone. He's not sure if he can count it as a win when Arthur shows up in what must be his old schoolboy uniform, telling Merlin that he's been naughty and needs to be spanked.

In the end, Merlin decides that maybe he just needs to make their encounters more romantic. So the next time Arthur comes over, he proposes they make the most of the huge, sunken tub in the bathroom that Merlin never really uses. He has set the place up with candles and put a bottle of sparkling wine in the cooler, planning for them to have a good, long and relaxing soak. Arthur has, of course, different ideas.

It starts out perfectly though, with Arthur sinking into the foam covered water across from Merlin, stretching out all wet and skin glistening in the candlelight. He watches Merlin silently but with an amused little smile playing on his mouth, while Merlin babbles about how weird he sometimes feels having this huge flat all to himself. His mum is still living in that cramped little cottage at home, and he's a bit worried what she will think when she comes for a visit.

Arthur has still not said a word, and Merlin huffs out an exasperated sigh after a while. He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, and looks at Arthur challengingly. Arthur being Arthur, isn't able to leave that unanswered, but he's also a man who seems to believe that actions speak a lot louder than words.

He quietly puts his glass down to the side and then glides forward in the water, gripping the edge of the tub on both sides of Merlin's head. His eyes are intense in the low light, reflecting the flickering flames of the candles, and he cages Merlin in with his strong arms, leaving him no way to escape. Then he plants his naked, slippery arse right into Merlin's lap. Merlin's cock springs to life, pressing snugly into Arthur's cleft and every thought of intellectual stimulating conversation flies right out of the window when Merlin's eloquence is reduced to: Arthur, wet and naked.

He has no idea from where Arthur even gets the condom and silicone based lube all of a sudden – maybe boy scouts are branching out these days – but it doesn't take long until Arthur is undulating in Merlin's lap, opening himself up with clever fingers while lavishing Merlin in slow, filthy kisses. Merlin wants to protest, he really does, but then Arthur sinks down on him, hot and still so impossibly tight, and Merlin loses his last coherent thought because Arthur begins to ride him, fucking himself on Merlin's stiff and eager cock.

Afterwards, when he is resting against Arthur's chest, his head on Arthur's shoulder and his fingers lazily stroking along the strong thighs framing him in, fe feels languid and warm and Arthur must have fucked every bit of common sense out of him. At least that is the only explanation Merlin can come up with later for the fact that he asks the one question he has promised himself to never ask.

''Why did you become an escort?''

Arthur's whole body turns stiff beneath him, and his voice is cool and distant when he says, ''That's none of your business.''

''But isn't there any other way you could earn money? A way that wouldn't mean you have to sell yourself?''

His brain is obviously still trying to reboot after his mind-blowing orgasm, because Merlin only realises a few seconds later what he has said. Precisely in that moment when Arthur calmly pushes him away and steps out of the tub, reaching for a towel and starting to dry himself without a word.

''A-Arthur? I'm sorry, I didn't-''

''I've told you from the start, Merlin. I'm not your boyfriend. I'm the guy you pay for sex, and that's the only relationship we'll ever have.''

Arthur lets the towel drop to the floor and stalks out without another look at Merlin, who is left – completely stunned – in the cooling water of the tub. He shivers a little and then flinches when he hears the door to the flat fall shut a moment later without Arthur having said so much as goodbye.

~*~

Merlin gets out of the tub with a heavy weight sitting in his stomach. He can hardly breathe when he goes back over the conversation and starts to wonder if Arthur has just broken up with him. He tries to call, but Arthur doesn't answer his phone. When he tries again the next day it goes straight to voice mail. Becoming more and more agitated, Merlin finally starts texting him.

_Hi Arthur. I just wanted to apologise. I hope you know I didn't mean to offend you._

_I know your job is your job and none of my business, really. I didn't mean to pry. I'm sorry._

_Are we still on for next Thursday? I won't ask any more stupid questions, I promise._

It's only Sunday evening that Arthur finally replies.

_Sorry. I won't be available next week._  

~*~

The following days pass slowly, like petulant children dragging their feet. Merlin feels tense, unable to concentrate and not knowing what to do with himself – which is ridiculous since it's not like he's spent all his time with Arthur before. He tries to pretend like everything is as it has always been, but he quickly comes to realise that – apart from Arthur – his life is pretty much made up of long working hours and falling asleep in front of the TV.

When Thursday comes Merlin leaves from work early, as he has always done these past weeks, but he can't make himself go home to his empty flat. He doesn't feel like preparing a meal if there's no one there to share it with either. He turns a few corners until he reaches the park close to his flat and walks along the deserted paths. It's a bleary, cool day in November; not many people feel the need to spend it outside. Merlin sinks down on a bench, shivering slightly when the dampness creeps under his clothes. The world around him is grey and yellow, bare trees stretching their arms out to the clouds from the sea of old leaves covering the ground.

It's like a metaphor for his life, Merlin thinks. He feels like he's been stripped naked; his once so pretty dreams and hopes laying rotten and foul at his feet. His world seems empty and cold without the golden rays of the sun and the laughing blue sky that makes up Arthur's eyes.

Merlin stays on that bench until it turns dark and he can't really feel his toes anymore. Then he slowly walks home, slips out of his clothes and goes straight to bed. It still takes him a long time to fall asleep.

He waits another day, but by Saturday he simply can't take it anymore and calls Arthur. He's prepared for it, but still feels gutted when it goes to voicemail once more.

''This is Arthur Pendragon. I'm unfortunately not available at the moment, but if you want to leave a message I will call you back as soon as possible.''

Merlin bottles the urge to call again and again only to hear Arthur's voice, and instead leaves the message he's prepared in his mind.

''Hello Arthur, this is Merlin. I was wondering whether you'll be available again next week? If Thursday isn't possible, I could do another day. Any day is fine really. I'm not picky. I just... really would like to see you. I'm sorry for last time. I was an idiot, I know. It won't happen again, I promise. I- I look forward to hearing from you. Bye.''

When he's hung up, Merlin presses his face into his knees and takes a few deep, shaky breaths. It doesn't really help though. Merlin realises he is scared - scared that Arthur won't see him anymore, that he has decided that Merlin is too much of a bother. And if he has, then there's nothing Merlin can do about it, is there? As much as Arthur has always pointed out that it's Merlin's choice what they do, how they spend their time when they see each other – it's Arthur's choice whether they see each other at all.

Merlin knows that feeling of hanging in the balance, of seeing someone walk away from you, hoping that he will come back. It didn't turn out like that the last time. And so Merlin is scared because maybe – much like with Will – he has ruined everything by wanting too much.

~*~

When the text message comes a few hours later, Merlin sits frozen for a few minutes, unable to look at it and find out the verdict. He's holding his breath when he finally presses the button, and it explodes out of him in nearly delirious relief when he finally reads Arthur's words.

_I can come around Thursday at seven. Remember price is 200/h._

When the first elation has abated, Merlin keeps staring at the screen for a long time, feeling strangely torn. There's the almost overwhelming joy – because Arthur has replied and Merlin does get to see him again next Thursday. And then there's the nagging worry and dread over Arthur's painful reminder that all they have is a business arrangement. He keeps mulling over the words, trying to decipher anything that Arthur might have said between the lines.

When Thursday finally approaches, he's nervous and jittery. Even worse than the first time Arthur came over – and was that really only two months ago? It feels like an eternity. Merlin can hardly remember what his life was like before he met Arthur, so essential has the other man become to him.

It's a little after seven, when there's finally the sound of the doorbell, and Merlin nearly stumbles over his own two feet in his rush to answer it. He rips the door open and immediately feels winded from just taking one look at Arthur. It simply isn't fair.

Arthur's pose is arrogant, feet slightly apart, hands buried in his pockets and that condescending tilt to his head that makes Merlin want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. His eyes, though, his eyes are piercing Merlin with blue steel right through the heart. He's even more glorious than he remembered, and Merlin can't stop himself. He takes an almost involuntary step forward, like he's drawn in by a secret force, and pulls the blond man into a fierce, desperate hug.

''It's so good to see you,'' he whispers against Arthur's neck. ''I missed you so much.''

Arthur gently pushes him off. He gives Merlin a weird, unreadable look, and then gestures for him to step back into the flat ahead of Arthur, wordlessly closing the door behind them.

''Do you have the money?'' he asks, all calm and unflappable, and Merlin swallows because this is not what he has expected. He knows he shouldn't push though; he can't fuck this up again.

''O-Of course. On the counter. Thousand. Like always.''

Arthur nods and goes to pick up the envelope, putting it away and shrugging out of his jacket. The whole thing is so reminiscent of that first time; it feels as if they are back to square one. That can't be right though. However much Arthur might want to deny it, they aren't strangers anymore. Merlin knows Arthur even if he doesn't know much about him.

Arthur turns around and looks at Merlin questioningly. ''So? What do you want to do? Want me to get naked or are we having dinner first?''

Arthur's blue eyes are almost cold, his face a blank mask not even really trying for seduction.

''Stop it,'' Merlin whispers. He takes a step forward, hand reaching out, begging. ''Please. Don't be that way.''

''What way, Merlin? I'm just inquiring on how you want to use the time you've just bought.''

''I know I messed up, okay? I know I had no right to ask. I promise you, no more questions. But please... please don't be like that.''

Arthur stares at him hard. ''You need to get this straight, Merlin. What this is about. You are buying my services. Don't confuse this with... with friendship or any such thing.''

Merlin swallows. ''But... you've always said it's my call. Right?''

Arthur inclines his head.

''So... I get to decide how I use the time I have with you. Whether I want to have sex or... do other stuff.''

''Within certain limits.''

''What limits?''

''You don't get to pry. My private life, what I do with it, the choices I make – it's none of your business.''

''Okay.'' Merlin nods. His heart aches where Arthur's words cut into it with sharp edges. But if this is the only way he can have Arthur, he'll take it. He can't imagine losing him, the thought alone makes him feel like he's suffocating.

''So what about a hug?'' he asks in a small voice.

''What about them?'' Arthur asks with a frown.

Merlin gnaws at his bottom lip. ''Can I get one?''

Arthur stares at him in that way he has – that disbelieving, oh-my-god-Merlin-you're-an-idiot way – before he shakes his head and huffs out a sigh.

''Sure...,'' he says, rolling his eyes. ''If you want to be a complete girl about it.''

He holds out his arms, and even if it's done mockingly and Merlin comes with a scowl on his face, when Arthur wraps them around him Merlin feels like he can breathe again. He closes his eyes, sucking in that unique smell of fresh cut grass and sun warmed leather that's Arthur. He always thought it was a stupid thing to think but if he died right now, it wouldn't be too bad.

He lets Arthur lead him to the bedroom. Doesn't resist when he starts to undress him and pulls him down on the duvet with him. It's soothing, in a way, to just let Arthur go ahead and make all the decisions. All Merlin wants at this point is to be with Arthur and he doesn't care how, what and why.

As long as he can feel Arthur's skin warm against his, hands - broad and sure - taking charge of him. As long as he can hear the soft puffs of breath in his ear, catching and turning into a grunt when Arthur thrusts inside. As long as he can look up and watch Arthur moving above him, tethered strength and sweat damp hair. As long as he can touch him, skin over sinew, muscle over bone, real and beautiful and glorious like the setting sun.

His eyes feel damp and his throat feels raw, and he pulls his legs up and wraps them around Arthur, heels digging into the small of the other man's back. He knows he's defeated when he falls apart around Arthur, holding on by clawing at his broad shoulders, broken to pieces that Arthur puts back together again with lips and teeth and tongue.

He wasn't prepared for this, for love, but he should have seen it coming. He feels naïve now for ever having thought that this could end up any other way, and the only saving grace he has is the knowledge that his heart is tough. It's weathered storms before.

And so he lets Arthur make love to him because that's what it feels like. This is not just sex for money, not just services rendered, not when Arthur is gentle and sweet and tender. Not when he kisses Merlin like he means it.

Merlin doesn't ask any more questions that evening, and Arthur leaves when the clock turns midnight.

~*~

He still doesn't see the end when it's coming. He thought that he could hold that precarious house of cards in the balance, could make it last if he just kept himself from pushing. But it seems he's too far gone to even realise what he's doing.

It's just that Arthur lets him get away with it – with the cuddles and the smiles. He just spent the better part of an hour with his head resting in Arthur's lap, while the other man read to him and gently ran his fingers through Merlin's hair. Now he's in the kitchen, making tea the old-fashioned way – the way Arthur showed him.

It doesn't even occur to him that there could be a problem when he asks, ''Are you free Friday in two weeks?''

Arthur stretches his neck to look at him over the back of the couch. ''I think so. Why?''

''My Mum's coming to town and I wanted to take her out. I thought it would be nice if you came along.''

''… with your Mum?''

''I want her to meet you.''

''Merlin.''

It's the one word, the way Arthur says him name: quiet, sharp, like a warning. Suddenly Merlin is standing at the edge of the cliff – a cliff he knew was there, but recklessly ignored because he thought himself clever and careful enough to navigate around it. Now the abyss is looming all around him and he knows one wrong step will make him fall.

Unfortunately his mouth decides to go ahead without his approval because Merlin is nervous now, and when he is nervous he babbles.

''She's been asking if I made any friends,'' his mouth is trying to explain. ''And I told her about you.''

Arthur sits up and puts his head in his hands. ''This isn't working,'' he mumbles into them.

Merlin's heart plummets ahead of him into the dark depth, but Merlin himself is still holding on to the edge with the tips of his fingers.

''What do you mean?'' he asks because surely Arthur only means next Friday. It's just about Merlin's idea – which is a stupid idea, of course. He can just take it back, can laugh it off, say it was a joke.

But Arthur gets up, and Merlin stares at him when he comes over, the room around them becoming blurry when all he can see is the intense blue of Arthur's eyes. Arthur stops in front of him, and something in his eyes softens. For a moment Merlin thinks it's going to be okay.

Then Arthur takes his face in between his broad hands, thumbs stroking along Merlin's cheekbones, and bends forward to gently press his lips against Merlin's.

''Don't call me anymore,'' he says when he draws back.

''What?'' Merlin's heart is still in free fall, beating like mad against his ribcage. ''If this is about my mother... I'm sorry. You don't have to...of course you don't have to!''

''It isn't about your mother. It's about you.'' Arthur sighs, shaking his head. ''This has been fucked-up from the get go, and I should have never let it come this far. I should have never taken you as a client and certainly not as a regular, because this, Merlin, this is blurring the line. And, by god, I know I've let you, but this is where it stops.''

''I don't understand! You went to that party with Nimueh. Everyone thought you were her boyfriend!''

''No, Merlin. No one thought I was her boyfriend, maybe apart from you. Because these people know who I am. They know what I do. Nimueh took me to that party as a trinket - like her Cartier necklace or her fucking Manolo Blahniks. And that is the difference. That is why we can't see each other anymore.''

''What? Because I don't treat you like an object? Because I want to see the person inside?''

Arthur stares at him with his face impassive. He stands – tall, broad and proud – like a king of legends. His voice is dry as the desert and cold as frost.

''The person inside is not for sale.''

He doesn't say anything else when he walks out the door, taking every breath of air with him.

~*~

The next day and the next and the one after that, Merlin calls but of course Arthur doesn't answer the phone. His last words keep repeating in Merlin's mind, and every time he remembers Arthur's dead voice telling him that he can't be bought, Merlin feels like his insides are slowly being covered by a sheet of ice.

He wants to shout at Arthur, wants to shake him and tell him to not be stupid, that Merlin never thought of him as a commodity or an object, that that's the fucking point. But the truth is that Merlin did buy, maybe not Arthur, but his time and his services. Services that included Arthur sucking Merlin off or getting fucked by him.

Merlin feels slightly sick wondering whether Arthur has always thought of them like this, whether he had to force himself to sleep with Merlin, maybe even secretly felt disgusted by it. But if that was the case, why would Arthur keep pushing Merlin, seducing him and teasing him until Merlin could do nothing but give in to the temptation? It has almost always been Arthur who initiated their sexual escapades. He couldn't have thought that Merlin expected that of him, could he? No, Arthur has used sex to evade Merlin's attempts to get to know him because he wanted to see Merlin as a client and nothing else. Arthur is obviously a giant idiot.

Merlin, though, is not about to make the same mistake twice. He isn't about to let Arthur walk away from him just like that. Obviously he has been stupid as well; he should have told Arthur that he wanted more, should have asked whether Arthur would ever consider him as a boyfriend instead of a paying customer.

But that doesn't mean Merlin can't fix it. There has to be a way he can fix this, can explain, can make Arthur see that he doesn't have to break up with Merlin - not that it's breaking up really when they didn't have a relationship in the first place.

He might have told all of this to Arthur already – or, well, Arthur's voicemail because Arthur refuses to talk to him.

_''Okay, I know I made a mistake. I probably made a lot of mistakes because I'm awkward and stupid and I put my foot in my mouth. Though how I was supposed to know what's okay and what isn't, I have no idea. It's not like there's a rulebook! … or if there is I sure never saw it. You never told me how this was supposed to work!''_

_''So, I guess this whole 'it's your choice' thing was bollocks, right? It's just my choice as long as I choose to use you for sex and then throw you away. You want me to treat you like an object? How is that 'my call'? I think you are a big, fat liar that's what you are!''_

_''Arthur, please. I know I'm probably the worst client you ever had. But I never really wanted to be your client anyway. I just wanted to see you again because I thought you were... well I thought you were a giant prat but rather good-looking and also funny and charming and intriguing. I didn't know what else to do. I still don't know what to do, really.''_

_''I know you think I just wanted some guy for hire but that's not true. I'm sorry for being such an enormous idiot, but I can't be sorry for caring about you. And I do. I really, really do. And that doesn't mean that I expect you to return that in any way. I don't expect anything from you. I just... I miss you.''_

_''Will you please just talk to me! You stubborn, stupid clotpole!''_

When after a week there's still no reaction, Merlin tries to stay calm. They've been through this before. He's sure that Arthur will calm down, will send him some rude text message and then Merlin will see him again. There is no way Arthur has cut him off for good just because Merlin put his foot in his mouth. He does that all the time; Arthur should really know this by now.

So he keeps waiting. He has his phone set to vibration in the front pocket of his jeans, but still keeps pulling it out incessantly checking for messages or a missed call. Everything else is put to the sidelines, a necessary sub plot in his life to keep the story going. He wouldn't be able to say what he ate, what was on the telly or even what kind of designs he sketched. All that matters in his life is talking to Arthur, telling him all the things he always wanted to. About how he hates working for Nimueh, about how angry he was when Will abandoned him after Merlin stood by him through all their childhood and adolescence, about how he sometimes looks at men of a certain age wondering if they could be the father he never knew.

And then, after two weeks, Merlin calls and there's a voice at the other end of the line. It's not Arthur. It's Arthur's provider telling Merlin that he can go and and fuck himself if he is so inclined – literally.

_The number you have dialled has not been recognised, please check and try again._

_The number you have dialled has not been recognised, please check and try again._

_The number you have dialled has not been recognised, please check and try again._

It seems Arthur has cancelled his mobile phone contract.

For a second Merlin feels a vicious satisfaction at the fact that Arthur has done that because of him, and at least that is some sort of reaction, even if not the one Merlin had been hoping for. Then the message Arthur is trying to send settles in, and Merlin realises that it has become very unlikely that Arthur will change his mind. Arthur is serious; he's not coming back.

It really shouldn't hurt so much when your heart breaks for the second time, but the pieces don't get ripped along the same lines. This is worse, so much worse than when Will turned his back on him. This time Merlin is sure he will suffocate because there's no air in his lungs and his chest burns as if it's on fire.

When he can feel his limbs again and the black spots dancing in front of his eyes have dissolved, Merlin sits down hard on the floor of his flat. He has no idea what to do now, no idea how to contact Arthur. He doesn't know where he lives, doesn't even know whether Arthur Pendragon is his real name. It's like Arthur is the clear water of a lake, just slipping through Merlin's fingers when he tries to hold on too much.

~*~

Two weeks have passed without a word or hint of Arthur when Merlin's mum comes to town because – despite what Merlin feels would be appropriate – life has a tendency to go on and not give a shit whether you are keeping up.

She asks him what's wrong before she's even fully through the door, and Merlin only hesitates for a second before he tells her everything.

''So that Arthur you told me about... he's not actually your boyfriend?''

Merlin's laugh is self-deprecating and hollow. He shakes his head.

''Oh my poor darling boy,'' Hunith says with that sympathetic smile of hers that's full of warmth and holds not even a hint of condescending pity. Her hand against Merlin's cheek is a familiar comfort. ''I know it hurts – the more you love him, the more it does.''

''I didn't say anything about love,'' Merlin points out, putting a steaming cup of tea in front of her.

Hunith looks at him with exasperated eyes. ''You didn't have to, sweetheart.''

''He's a prat!'' Merlin complains sullenly.

Hunith nods.

''He's totally not worth it.''

Hunith smiles at him.

Merlin slumps in his chair and buries his face in his folded arms on the table, mumbling the next words into the fabric of his sleeves.

''Except he really, really is. Worth it.'' He blinks up at her through the bangs falling in his face. ''When you first meet him,'' he says wistfully. ''You think he's an arsehole. But that's only because he wants you to believe that. It's like he puts on an armour, preparing himself for life like it's a battle. Like he thinks the best defence is a good offence and he takes care to not ever leave himself open and vulnerable.''

''Then he must have been badly hurt before. And in the kind of profession he works in, well... I can only assume that it is a necessary survival strategy to acquire some sort of armour.''

''But... it wasn't like that with us!''

''Wasn't it? How do you know that? Has he told you he wants something else from you?''

''Not in so many words... but I know he cancelled on other clients because of me and he... he likes King and Sorcerer and he read to me and taught me how to make real tea. He's been sweet and tender and kind, even if he always tried to hide it behind mocking and insults.''

''And you paid him for that.''

Merlin looks up at her serious face, eyebrows raised high on her forehead. He winces. ''Yes.''

''So you don't know how he would react if the situation was different. If you were just two young men who like each other.''

''I- I guess not. But no one can act like that. I know he likes me too!''

''I'm not saying that he doesn't, Merlin. I'm saying that you need to find out, and if he doesn't want what you want, then you have to let him go.''

''How would I do that? I don't even have his new mobile number.''

''Do you know anyone who does?''

Merlin looks at her stunned. Because he can't be completely sure, but chances are that Arthur told his other clients his new number. And Merlin knows one of them at least: Nimueh.

''If you want him to believe that you see more in him than a person you can buy for whatever purpose, then maybe it's time that you ask him what he wants.''

Merlin contemplates his mother's words for a long time that night. From the beginning, Arthur has always told him that the choice is his, that it's for Merlin to decide how they spend their time and how they have sex. But that's because Merlin was his customer, because he paid him, and Merlin has to realise that he might have tried to buy himself a friend. Which is all kinds of fucked up.

Though, maybe he should just accept that Arthur has told him what he wants already – sometimes silence can say more than a thousand words after all – but Merlin wants Arthur to know that there's a third option. That, if Arthur wanted to, they could be something else.

Merlin is honest enough with himself to acknowledge that there is still all this selfish need inside of him. There's all this love and loneliness and a fierce, stubborn refusal to let go of the best thing that has ever happened to him. But, at that moment, he swears if he can get Arthur to listen to him and Arthur tells him to leave him alone, then Merlin will.

~*~

When Merlin knocks on the door of Nimueh McKinsey the following day, he's nervous as hell. There's no way to bring up Arthur that doesn't make him look like a complete idiot, but Merlin thinks he might be beyond caring at this point. If this is his only chance to get to Arthur – talk to him, explain, apologise – then he will do what ever he has to do.

Nimueh looks up with a frown when she sees him. ''Merlin. I don't remember that we had an appointment. Is there something wrong with the wedding dress?''

''No, no!'' Merlin hurries to assure her. ''The dress is fine, or well as fine as it can be.''

Nimueh narrows her eyes. ''It's the Lady Vivian's wedding and so it is her choice. Do you have any idea how much business it will bring when people all over the country see her walk down the aisle in one of my creations?''

''A lot?'' Merlin asks, and doesn't point out that, technically, it's his creation.

Nimueh rolls her eyes at Merlin's apparent ignorance. ''Yes, Merlin, a lot.'' She looks him up and down for a moment. ''So if it's not about that, then why are you here instead of being a good little boy, working your arse off and making me money?''

Merlin clears his throat. ''I...uh. I wanted to ask whether you could give me Arthur's new number. Seems he has changed it and I can't contact him.''

For a moment Nimueh looks like she has no idea what he's talking about. Then she throws her head back and laughs.

''Are you talking about Arthur Pendragon? That little cock sucking whore boy? Oh my, that's rather precious.'' Nimueh grins at him sardonically. ''So did you like his services? I've got to admit, that's some real talent the boy has there. Lucky for him, since he doesn't have many others. At least he makes the best out of what mother nature gave him.''

Merlin clenches his fists at his side, grits his teeth and then goes and lies right through them. ''I never really found the courage to call him but now my ex-boyfriend is in town and has invited me to a party. I thought it would be great to show up with someone like Arthur for the occasion.''

Nimueh smiles. ''Oh yes, that's exactly what he's good for. But like I said... I'd go for the extra services after the party. That's where his real talent lies.''

She winks at him and scribbles some numbers on a piece of paper, handing it to Merlin who barely dares to breathe when he takes it. He feels like he's been handed the crown jewels or the secret coordinates of Atlantis, only Merlin has no interest in those things when he clutches in his palm the numbers which just might let him hear Arthur's voice again.

'' It's really too bad...'' Nimueh says, and it takes Merlin a moment to realise he's been spoken to. ''His mother had so much promise. But then sometimes the apple does fall rather far from the tree.''

For a moment Merlin is too perplexed to come up with a retort. Then he asks, still shocked at the possibility even, ''You knew his mother?''

''Oh yes, she used to be one of my models,'' Nimueh says and there's even something like wistfulness in her voice. ''And she was a good friend too. We started out together. I will never understand why she had to get married to that bastard Uther Pendragon of all people, but at least she was still working. The rising star in the model world, that's what she was. Of course then she had to go and ruin it by getting pregnant.''

''But... what about Arthur?''

''Arthur?'' Nimueh's expression is full of scorn once more. ''As far as I can see, he's really only ever been good for the one thing. Which is what I told him when he came asking for help.''

Merlin's mouth falls open. ''What?''

Nimueh's eyes are cold as glaciers. ''You know I don't create fashion for men, Merlin. I don't even believe in it; fashion is for women. So I don't need any male models. But I had other uses for Arthur and I helped him make a living out of his pretty face. What more could he have asked for?''

Merlin stares at her, at her strange blue eyes - contacts, he realises – and her overly pale skin. She doesn't look young to him anymore, and not pretty at all. She's a vulture who sucks up the energy and talent of those around her, twists it and turns it with nothing in mind but her own profit, her own fame.

Merlin realises with a sudden, vertigo-inducing clarity that Arthur isn't the only one who sold himself. At least Arthur only sold his body. Merlin has sold his dreams, and to the most wretched person possible.

''I think you're wrong,'' he says, swallowing heavily. ''I think you have no idea what fashion is meant to be, or what creativity can do. And you have not a fucking clue about Arthur. He is so much more than a pretty face. He's glorious. He has a special grace and elegance that's hard to find. But what's even more, he's clever and kind and funny. But you won't ever see that. You won't ever see the true depth, the true possibilities in people. I pity you. You are nothing but a scavenger without any talent of your own.''

Nimueh is gaping at him, probably lost for words for the first time in her life, and he turns away from her in disgust. He stops short in the door and throws the words over his shoulder like waste. ''Oh, if it wasn't obvious just now: I quit.''

~*~

It would be a lie to say that Merlin doesn't shake a little in his boots when he steps back into the lift. He feels a little like walking under water, the bustle around him muted and far away. Like in a dream he picks up his stuff and puts it all in his messenger bag. He doesn't plan to set a foot again into the building of McKinsey Fashion.

All the while, the piece of paper with Arthur's number burns a hole into his jeans pocket.

When he steps out, he's greeted by the cold morning air of late November. The trees are bare now but the sky is a brilliant blue, and the weak sun is painting long shadows on the ground. His breath leaves his lips in plumes and Merlin pulls down his knit cap and buries his hands in the pocket of his winter coat. Then he just walks.

He feels strangely detached from the world around him, from life in general, almost like he's in limbo. He burned bridges just there but, even though he's out of a job now, he feels only relief. He feels free.

He wanders down the streets that lie quiet at this hour of the day. Everyone is busy and working and it's too early for the shoppers and mothers with their buggies. It's kind of peaceful. When he catches sight of the small coffee shop, Merlin smiles. It's the same one he ran into Will all those weeks ago. It's weird how little he feels at that thought now. After all those years the wound apparently has healed without him noticing.

When remembers that day, the rain and the desperate phone call he made cowering in an entrance further down the street, the only heartache is for the man who answered his cry. The man who – despite other commitments – came for Merlin straight away, who made him tea and listened and let him take comfort from his presence and his warmth.

Merlin knows now that he loves Arthur. It's a feeling that's deeper and more all-encompassing than anything he's ever experienced and he knows that it won't go away.

He steps into the coffee shop and orders a triple cappuccino with cream, almond syrup and chocolate chips on top. He's of the opinion that he deserves it and he also needs all the caffeine and sugar for what he's about to do next.

Making himself comfortable in the furthest corner of the shop, he takes a big gulp of the concoction. Then he pulls his phone and the piece of paper from his pocket. He feels a little like a coward when he blocks his number but he's not going to waste his chances here.

His fingers hover over the keys for a moment before he takes a deep breath and dials the number. He's not sure he's breathing while listening to the signal on the other end of the line, waiting with his heart hammering in his chest for Arthur to answer.

''Yes? Hello?''

It's a woman's voice and Merlin nearly drops his mobile. Thoughts are flaring up in his mind: wrong number, a customer, a girlfriend...

''Are you trying to make a dirty call?'' The woman sounds exasperated and a little annoyed.

''Uh... is this Arthur Pendragon's number?''

''Of course it is.''

''Ah.''

''He's not here, though. The idiot forgot his mobile.''

There's a pause. Merlin has no idea what to say, he had all these elaborate arguments to lay down at Arthur's feet, but he's completely unprepared to deal with who ever it is that holds possession of Arthur's phone right now.

''Listen, honey, I can take a message for Arthur, but I probably have to disappoint you. He doesn't take clients at the moment.''

''Oh! That's good...''

The woman laughs, it's a throaty chuckle that sounds almost familiar. ''Now, that wasn't the reaction I expected. So you're not calling for his services? Not a customer?''

''Uh... not anymore. And no, that's not the reason I'm calling.''

The silence that follows is almost deafening. For a moment Merlin thinks the call has been disconnected, but then he hears the woman's voice again. It sounds completely different without the humour and flirtation in it.

''You're Merlin,'' she says. It's not a question, so it seems silly to deny it.

''Yes.''

''How did you get this number?''

''Treachery.''

The laugh that explodes out of her is surprised and almost begrudging.

''Interesting. I might start to see why he likes you.''

Merlin swallows against the lump in his throat. ''He does?''

She makes a scoffing sound. ''Okay, I'm not going to have this conversation over the phone. Where are you?''

''What?''

''Your location, Merlin.''

''Uh... a coffee shop.''

''You need to be a little more precise than that.''

''Alice's Corner Coffee on Kingsway.''

There's a short pause, then she says, ''I can be there in twenty.''

''Uh... okay.''

''Don't go anywhere.''

''No, ma'am.''

Her laughter is cut off when she disconnects the call.

~*~

When the bell over the door rings to signal a customer half an hour later, Merlin looks up and immediately knows that it's her. She's tall and elegant in that careless way that only truly beautiful people can get away with. The paleness of her skin gives her an almost unearthly look, especially in contrast with the long dark hair that's shimmering like silk. Her eyes, though, are sharp like that of an eagle, and they zero in on Merlin like a predator sighting their prey.

She doesn't bother with ordering a coffee or some such but stalks over to his table and looks down at him with the most condescendingly judging look Merlin has ever encountered.

She sits down, crosses her legs and says, ''I'll take a double espresso.''

Merlin stares at her. ''Uh... sure... do you want me to-?''

Her answer consists only of a raised eyebrow.

Merlin goes to order the weirdly intense woman – about whose identity he still has no fucking clue – her coffee. Coming back to the table he sits down in his seat opposite from her and slides the small cup over, looking at her expectantly.

''So what do you want from Arthur?'' the woman asks in a rather clipped tone, putting sugar in her coffee.

''Why should I tell you?'' Merlin asks with a frown. After all, he still has no idea who he's dealing with.

''Because you don't get to talk to him unless you convince me.''

Merlin baulks at that. ''Who are you? His pimp!?''

The woman laughs her throaty laugh again. ''No. I'm his sister actually. My name is Morgana.''

''You don't look anything like him,'' Merlin says sceptically.

Morgana shrugs. ''Well, technically, I'm his half-sister. But that's neither here nor there.''

''Well...'' Merlin stubbornly raises his chin and meets her gaze head on. ''I'm in love with your brother.''

Morgana raises an eyebrow and slowly stirs her coffee. ''Are you now?''

''Yes.''

She cocks her head. ''Tell me something about him then.''

''What?''

''What did he want to be when he was a boy?''

Merlin has no idea. Arthur never really talked about his childhood.

''A knight. And later, when he realised that times had changed, a fighter pilot.'' Morgana's smile is cool when she answers her own question and continues to do so, only ever giving Merlin a second to come up with an answer he doesn't know in the first place.

''What is his deepest regret? – Never having met his mother. Why is he working as an escort? – because he's the most stubborn, loyal bastard I have ever met.'' She pauses and her eyes are almost compassionate when she says, ''You don't know my brother, Mr. Emrys. You only know Arthur Pendragon, the escort.''

''Maybe I don't know any of this, but I've only met your brother two months ago. And I do know a few things. I know that his favourite film is King and Sorcerer, even though he'll say it's Die Hard or some such nonsense, and that he thinks sweet popcorn is blasphemy but he secretly likes it. I know that he loves photography and abhors contemporary art. I know that his childhood wasn't easy, that he's been through many hardships but that he still turned out the most amazingly kind and smart and generous person I have ever met. But what's even more important: I still want to know more. I think I'll never stop wanting to know more about Arthur.'

Morgana looks at him scornfully. ''What would you know of Arthur's hardships? You work for Nimueh McKinsey!''

''You know Nimueh?''

''Of course I do. And you didn't answer my question.''

Merlin hesitates. This is something he figured out himself but he can't be sure whether he really has the full picture. ''Well, I know that someone close to Arthur, or at least someone he believed to be close to, betrayed him. I know he went to Nimueh for help and she made him think that he had no other option but to-'' Merlin swallows but then looks at Morgana coolly. ''No other option but to have sex with people for money.''

Arthur's sister raises her elegant eyebrows, her gaze inscrutable.

''And just for the record: I do not work for Nimueh McKinsey anymore. I just quit this morning.''

The amused smile that breaks out on Morgana's face then is so familiar that Merlin has to blink for a moment. Then she sighs and inexplicably says, ''I think you'll do.''

''What's that supposed to mean?''

Morgana rolls her eyes. That, too, is strangely familiar. ''What do you think why I wanted to meet you, Mr. Emrys?''

''Uh... I'm not really sure?''

''Because my brother is miserable. And for a while he wasn't. Ever since he came back from Nimueh's charity event he was... different.''

''Arthur has been emotionally fucked up from the day he was born. His mother died in childbirth and our father was the emotional equivalent of a deep freezer. He died from a sudden heart attack when Arthur was sixteen, and Arthur's uncle from his mother's side became his guardian and trustee. He ran with all of the money a year later. All of it. Agravaine didn't do things half-way. Arthur lost his childhood home, his mother's jewellery... everything. That's when he went to Nimueh McKinsey, the purported friend of his mother.''

Merlin tries to take all of that in. He can't even imagine what that must have been like for Arthur, to piece by piece lose everything he had known, everything he had cared for. First his parents, then his home. His uncle who was supposed to take care of him, love him even, betraying him like that and leaving him with nothing. And then Nimueh-

Merlin frowns. Because somehow that doesn't add up. ''But... wouldn't welfare step in in such a case?''

Now Morgana looks slightly uncomfortable. ''Yes, of course. Arthur even had the possibility to go and live in a foster family, but he didn't want to. He chose to have himself declared a major. Who can blame him after all the great experience he had with the people in charge of his well-being.''

''That still doesn't explain why he would have to stoop-... there had to be another way to get by!''

Morgana shoots him an angry glare and snaps, ''It was my fault, okay? He did it because of me.''

''What?''

A shadow passes over her prefect porcelain features, but then she raises her chin defiantly. ''I was in a mental institution back then. A very good one. Expensive. When Agravaine ran with all of the money there was no one to pay the bills any longer. That's why Arthur-... He's very protective, you see? He wanted for me to be able to stay there, and so he went to Nimueh, thinking she might have a job for him as a model, or get him into contact with someone who did. He's got his mother's looks.''

Merlin can't help but agree. ''He's... stunning. I can't believe she didn't see that.''

Morgana's laugh is an ugly, broken sound. ''Oh she did, believe me, she did. But she'd rather use him for her own gains. She never forgave him for getting between her and Ygraine. And Arthur... well, he was seventeen.''

''He thought it was his only option.''

''It probably was. At least without anyone willing to help. When I say expensive I mean expensive. Uther only ever paid for the best. And they did help me. I'm better now. Which is something I've been telling that stubborn bastard for months.'' Her eyes become unfocussed, as if they are seeing something beyond their mundane surroundings. ''I will be forever grateful for what he did for me. But sometimes I hate him a little for putting that guilt on my shoulders.''

She shakes herself and blinks, and when her gaze returns to Merlin, an evil smile stretches her painted lips.

''Which is where you come in, Mr. Emrys. You are the perfect way for me to pay my brother back.''

~*~

Morgana tells him where to find Arthur. Well, she gives him an address - an address in Chancery Lane which is only a few blocks away. Merlin looks at her questioningly.

''I know that's where he is right now,'' Morgana says with a shrug an that evil glint in her eyes. ''So you better hurry.''

When Merlin arrives at the location fifteen minutes later and out of breath, he feels pretty stupid. He is standing in front of a nineteenth century neo-Gothic building, the huge clock tower of the main entrance rising up into the clear blue sky. It's the Maughan Library, associated with King's College, and it's huge. Merlin has no idea how he will find Arthur here, has no idea where to look even. Does he work here, now that he seems to have given up on his other job?

With a sigh and a sinking heart Merlin makes his way inside. Deciding that he might as well start with the obvious, he makes his way to the information desk where an older gentleman with long white hair is just talking to the girl behind the desk.

''I'm sorry, Professor Gaius,'' the girl says with a mortified blush on her face. ''We will see that someone goes up there and clears the mess immediately.''

''Good. I know you and your colleagues have a lot on your plate, but that are some valuable books and we can't have them lying around like that. My bones are too old to climb up all that ladders, though.''

Merlin frowns. His brain is trying to make a connection, wondering where he might have heard the name of the man before, since he's sure he's never met him.

''Can I help you, sir?'' an older woman with a grey pageboy asks Merlin, startling him out of his musing.

''Oh... uh... I was hoping you could. I am looking for someone. I think he might have started working here recently. Arthur Pendragon?''

The woman smiles at him but shakes her head. ''I'm sorry, we haven't hired anyone recently and I'm quite sure no one by that name is working here.''

''Oh.'' Merlin slumps. Well that would probably have been too easy.

''You're looking for Arthur?''

Turning around in surprise, Merlin finds himself face to face with the older gentleman who looks at him inquiringly raising one eyebrow.

''Y-Yes,'' Merlin stammers, ''His sister told me I would find him here.''

The man's features smoothen, and he quirks a smile. ''Well, I'm pretty sure you will find him in the reading room. He has an essay due on the export of human rights and it's problems on Thursday. And I told him 'no emergencies this time'.''

Professor Gaius smiles at him, and Merlin stares, gobsmacked, as a few more pieces of the puzzle fall into place. He swallows.

''He's- He's one of your students?'' he asks weakly.

''Arthur? Oh yes, one of my best actually.'' His smile turns fond then. ''You can tell him I'd said hello and he's allowed to take a break.''

He winks at Merlin before he turns and walks away, leaving him standing there, thunderstruck. It seems Morgana is right; he doesn't know Arthur after all.

The reading room is an impressive circular construction, topped by a glass dome and walls of books rising up three stories high, vaguely familiar in the way things are when you've seen them on pictures before. But Merlin doesn't really take in any of it.

Because on the opposite side of the room, sitting on one of the long wooden desks, is Arthur. He's wearing another cashmere jumper, a blue one this time which, Merlin just knows, matches his eyes perfectly. His hair shimmers golden in the light of the reading lamps, and something unexpected tugs on Merlin's heart-strings at the sight of Arthur, concentrated on a text he's reading, one finger on the page to mark his position when he scribbles something on his notepad. He's wearing wire-rimmed, rectangular glasses that are sliding down his nose.

As if Arthur is able to hear Merlin's thoughts, he pushes the glasses back up, adjusts them and then takes a look around. He does a double-take at the sight of Merlin, his eyes widening, and Merlin can see the surprised intake of breath.

They keep staring at each other – Merlin with a tentative smile, Arthur's expression stony. Then Merlin takes a deep breath and walks over, coming to a stop next to Arthur who's looking up at him with an uncertain frown. Merlin's fingers nervously dance over the tabletop in front of him and he bites his lip before he blurts, ''I met your professor. He said to tell you it would be okay to take a break.''

Arthur's eyes narrow. ''You met my professor?''

Merlin nods. ''At the information desk.''

Arthur closes his eyes and shakes his head. ''Merlin. How did you even know where to find me?''

Merlin swallows. ''Your sister told me. She's pretty scary by the way.''

Arthur's eyes grow impossibly wide. ''My sis-''

Merlin holds up his hands. ''Look, I swear I'm not stalking you.'' Arthur raises a challenging eyebrow and Merlin glares at him. ''Okay, I guess you might call it that, but I'll stop.'' He takes a shaky breath but then says, ''I swear I will leave you alone from now on. If you want me to. I just- please, Arthur... can we talk first?''

There's a cough coming from a desk further to the left where a girl with a sloppy ponytail is shooting daggers at them.

Arthur sighs. Then he gets up, grabs his coat and pushes Merlin to walk ahead of him. ''Okay, move,'' he says and leads Merlin out of the room and out of the library.

There's a patch of grass right outside the main entrance, with some low hedges and stone benches arranged in a circle. Although the November sun is trying its best to shoo away the cold, the place lies deserted. That's where Arthur takes him.

''Okay,'' he says, crossing his arms in front of his chest – a gesture that looks more defiant than imperious. ''Talk.''

Merlin feels like in a standoff, as if they are old fashioned gunslingers. He's so nervous, his hands are shaking. Because he knows this is it.

''I quit my job,'' he says and Arthur frowns, obviously not having expected that opening. ''I went to Nimueh because... because I thought she might know your new number- no, please, hear me out!'' Arthur glares at him but gives him a sharp nod. ''I know I've probably been a pain in your arse but... I knew I would never forgive myself if I didn't try talking to you, to explain and... and tell you how sorry I am.''

Something in Arthur deflates, and his expression becomes almost pained before he schools his features back into the impassive mask.

''Not for being with you!'' Merlin hurries to elaborate. ''Just... for the circumstances, for the way I chose to approach you, for being a coward and not just asking you on a date.''

Arthur looks at him quizzically, and if Merlin isn't starting to hallucinate there might just have been a little twitch in the corner of his mouth.

''What I wanted to tell you is... I stopped selling myself. Because that's what I did. I sold my talent and my dreams to Nimueh because she offered me more money than I had ever believed one person could legally earn. And it was tempting. I wanted my mum to get out of her debts, to be able to pay back the loans at the bank, and... I wanted to not be poor any more. But that was stupid. The cost was too high. And today, when she said all those things about you, I felt ashamed. Because I've not been much better than her-''

''Merlin. Don't be stupid,'' Arthur say shaking his head. ''You've never been anything like Nimueh.''

''I'm not so sure about that. I used you. Maybe in a different way, but I still paid you to be what I wanted you to be.''

''That's the service I was offering,'' Arthur says stiffly.

''Yeah. But that was never what I wanted really. Arthur...'' Merlin swallows. ''I always just wanted you to be you. To get to know you. From the moment you called me an idiot and mock-quoted Byron at me. And I think I've been able to see a few glimpses of that person you really are - the person inside. And each and every one of them only made me want you more.''

Merlin shuffles his feet and bites his lip. This is the hardest part. ''I don't want to buy you anymore. I'm... I'm asking whether you might be interested in... an exchange of sorts.''

''An exchange?'' Arthur looks at him dubiously.

Merlin nods. ''I don't have much to offer. Just... well, me. But I can tell you that I'm already halfway in love with you, or maybe its three-quarter, it's hard to measure really... I'd just come out and tell you I love you if I wasn't sure that would scare you away immediately.''

Merlin's eyes are glued to his own shoes and he swallows heavily, waiting for Arthur's verdict. When Arthur doesn't say anything he finally looks up and his heart makes a little jump. Arthur has that look, the one he gets when he thinks Merlin's making a fool out of himself but finds it endearing. Tentative hope blossoms in his chest, and he tries a smile that Arthur answers with an eye-roll.

''So... what do you want, Merlin?''

''How about a coffee?''

''A coffee? That's all? You want to have a coffee with me?''

''Yes. I mean... if you want to. Isn't that what people do for a first date? I'd really like to get to know you better, but... It's your choice.''

Arthur cocks his head and looks at Merlin almost contemplatively. Then he grins. ''I was right that first night. You are an idiot.'' He shakes his head. ''Well, I guess I know what I'm getting into at least.''

When Merlin looks at him uncertainly, Arthur raises his eyebrows. ''What?'' he says. ''I'm not gonna tell you I love you on our first date, Merlin.''

Merlin scowls. ''I was right too. You are a giant prat!''

Arthur ducks his head, but Merlin sees the smile that spreads over his face anyway. When he looks back up, he's all Arthur. Amused, arrogant, exasperated - and looking at Merlin like he's something unexpectedly wonderful.

''You better get used to it then, '' Arthur says, stepping forward and pulling Merlin in. ''Because if the choice is mine...''

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * ["Can I come in?"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941978) by [alby_mangroves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alby_mangroves/pseuds/alby_mangroves)
  * [Ethereal (The Unlikely Soulmates Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910696) by [RocknVaughn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocknVaughn/pseuds/RocknVaughn)




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